119.txt

In the warm hue of the setting sun, a well-used wooden cutting board leans against the gray, splintered slats of an aging backyard fence. Nearby, a bright red stop sign, its paint slightly faded and peeling from years of service, is planted firmly beside a quaint garden shed with peeling blue paint and a rusty door handle. The grass, tinged orange by the sunset's glow, is dotted with dandelions and whispers of the day's end breeze.