(The pigeonhole principle in mathematics, in its crudest form, states that if you have more pigeons than pigeonholes, you have to group multiple pigeons in one or more instances to accommodate them all.)
Outside, soft rain drizzled down the puckered white walls, drenching them slowly but incessantly in its cold and moist embrace. Silent green trees gazed upwards longingly as if searching for a faint trace of some stray sunbeam through the dark pall that veiled the land. The dahlias in the garden cowered their majestic heads before the frigid wind. The grey cemented area assumed a much darker shade reflecting the overcast skies above. The freshness of the grass slowly wafted from the damp ground, accentuated by the musty smell of the oak tables and chairs. Far away, over the regular sound of rainwater playfully tapping the paths, one could hear the dying vestiges of car horns scooting away in utmost urgency. The unnoticed edges of the window pane were already foggy, and mist was gradually invading the entire view. The weather was bad; it was getting worse.
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