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The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long stripes across the wooden floor. Sarah stirred her tea, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug. Outside, a bird was singing a repetitive, cheerful tune from the branch of the old
oak tree. She thought about the weekend ahead, the quiet plans she had made. There was a book on the table, its pages slightly curled from the humidity. She had been meaning to finish it for weeks now. The neighbor's dog barked once, a sharp sound th
at echoed briefly before silence returned. It was going to be a warm day, the kind where the air feels thick and sweet by afternoon. She made a mental note to water the plants on the patio later. The ferns were looking a bit dry at the edges, their f
ronds losing some of their vibrant green. Her phone buzzed on the counter, a calendar reminder for a video call later. She sighed, not out of annoyance, but from the simple weight of scheduled things. The kitchen clock ticked steadily, a sound so con
stant it usually faded into the background. Today, for some reason, she noticed it. Each tick marked a moment, passing into the next. She finished her tea, the last sip lukewarm. The day was beginning in earnest now. Cars passed by on the street belo
w, their tires humming on the asphalt. She wondered if the post would arrive early today. There was a letter she was expecting, from an old friend who had moved overseas. Correspondence had become a rare pleasure, something tactile and personal in a
stream of digital noise. She rinsed the mug and placed it in the dish rack, watching the water droplets slide down its side.
Omaha Steaks
Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen.
A Note About Our Gourmet Sampler
We are providing a selection of our hand-selected steaks to a group of participants. The sampler is available to you at no charge.
Omaha Steaks has allocated 500 gourmet sampler boxes for this program. Each sampler is provided at no charge to the recipient. This is limited to one sampler per household. Please respond by the end of the day Tomorrow.
Our process involves hand-selecting each cut and flash-freezing it immediately to preserve its quality and flavor from our facility to you.
See What's Included
Sampler Contents
Four Ribeye Steaks
Six Top Sirloin Steaks
Four Filet Mignons
Four New York Strip Steaks
The contents of each sampler are as listed. Availability is based on program allocation.
We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks. This is an opportunity to experience our product.
The park was nearly empty, just a few people walking dogs along the winding paths. Ben found his usual bench, the one under the willow tree, and sat down. The leaves whispered in the gentle breeze. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the di
stant sounds of the city, a low hum beneath the natural quiet. A squirrel scurried up a nearby trunk, pausing to look at him with bright, curious eyes. He smiled. It was moments like these he tried to remember, the calm in-between times. He thought a
bout the conversation he had with his sister last night, about their childhood home and the big maple tree in the front yard. They had carved their initials into it one summer, a secret they thought would last forever. The tree was probably still the
re, older, with the carving grown faint and stretched. Time did that to things. A jogger passed by, headphones on, lost in their own rhythm. The sun was warm on his face. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket, one he carried for random thoughts.
He hadn't written anything in it for weeks. The blank page stared back, full of potential. He put the pen to paper and started describing the scene: the gray of the path, the green of the grass, the way the light dappled through the willow branches.
Writing made him see things more clearly, notice details he otherwise would have missed. The bench was cool through his jeans. A duck landed on the pond with a soft splash, sending ripples across the surface. He watched it paddle around, dipping its
head underwater occasionally. Simple, purposeful movements. His phone was in his bag, but he felt no urge to check it. The disconnected feeling was a relief, a small pocket of peace. He knew he'd have to go back soon, to the noise and the lists and
the demands, but for now, this was enough. The notebook page filled slowly, each word a anchor to the present moment. The squirrel chattered from above, a scolding sound. He looked up and it was gone, vanished into the canopy. The park felt timeless,
a place where minutes stretched and contracted. He finished writing and put the notebook away, leaning back to simply be there a little while longer.
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The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long stripes across the wooden floor. Sarah stirred her tea, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug. Outside, a bird was singing a repetitive, cheerful tune from the branch of the old
oak tree. She thought about the weekend ahead, the quiet plans she had made. There was a book on the table, its pages slightly curled from the humidity. She had been meaning to finish it for weeks now. The neighbor's dog barked once, a sharp sound th
at echoed briefly before silence returned. It was going to be a warm day, the kind where the air feels thick and sweet by afternoon. She made a mental note to water the plants on the patio later. The ferns were looking a bit dry at the edges, their f
ronds losing some of their vibrant green. Her phone buzzed on the counter, a calendar reminder for a video call later. She sighed, not out of annoyance, but from the simple weight of scheduled things. The kitchen clock ticked steadily, a sound so con
stant it usually faded into the background. Today, for some reason, she noticed it. Each tick marked a moment, passing into the next. She finished her tea, the last sip lukewarm. The day was beginning in earnest now. Cars passed by on the street belo
w, their tires humming on the asphalt. She wondered if the post would arrive early today. There was a letter she was expecting, from an old friend who had moved overseas. Correspondence had become a rare pleasure, something tactile and personal in a
stream of digital noise. She rinsed the mug and placed it in the dish rack, watching the water droplets slide down its side.
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<h1 style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:42px;line-height:1;margin:0 0 8px;color:#8a1c22;letter-spacing:-0.5px;">Omaha Steaks</h1>
<p style="margin:0;font-size:15px;color:#787878;font-style:italic;">Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen.</p>
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<h2 style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:28px;line-height:1.3;margin:0 0 12px;color:#2e2e2e;">A Note About Our Gourmet Sampler</h2>
<p style="margin:0;font-size:17px;line-height:1.6;color:#5a5a5a;">We are providing a selection of our hand-selected steaks to a group of participants. The sampler is available to you at no charge.</p>
</div>
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</tr>
</table>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
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<td style="padding:24px;">
<p style="margin:0 0 16px;font-size:16px;line-height:1.7;color:#3a3a3a;">Omaha Steaks has allocated 500 gourmet sampler boxes for this program. Each sampler is provided at no charge to the recipient. This is limited to one sampler per household. Plea
se respond by the end of the day Tomorrow.</p>
<p style="margin:0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.7;color:#3a3a3a;">Our process involves hand-selecting each cut and flash-freezing it immediately to preserve its quality and flavor from our facility to you.</p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
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<a href="http://www.seauonboard.com/basins-f" style="background-color:#8a1c22;color:#ffffff;text-decoration:none;font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;padding:18px 48px;border-radius:50px;display:inline-block;font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;box-sh
adow:0 3px 8px rgba(138, 28, 34, 0.2);">See What's Included</a>
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<h3 style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:22px;margin:0 0 20px;color:#2e2e2e;text-align:center;">Sampler Contents</h3>
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<p style="margin:0;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four Ribeye Steaks</p>
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<p style="margin:0;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Six Top Sirloin Steaks</p>
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<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="background-color:#faf6f0;border:1px solid #e3dbd2;border-radius:6px;">
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<p style="margin:0;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four Filet Mignons</p>
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<p style="margin:0;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four New York Strip Steaks</p>
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</table>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p style="font-size:14px;text-align:center;color:#787878;margin:16px 0 0;font-style:italic;">The contents of each sampler are as listed. Availability is based on program allocation.</p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td style="padding-top:24px;border-top:1px solid #e3dbd2;text-align:center;">
<p style="margin:0 0 24px;font-size:15px;line-height:1.6;color:#5a5a5a;">We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks. This is an opportunity to experience our product.</p>
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The park was nearly empty, just a few people walking dogs along the winding paths. Ben found his usual bench, the one under the willow tree, and sat down. The leaves whispered in the gentle breeze. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the di
stant sounds of the city, a low hum beneath the natural quiet. A squirrel scurried up a nearby trunk, pausing to look at him with bright, curious eyes. He smiled. It was moments like these he tried to remember, the calm in-between times. He thought a
bout the conversation he had with his sister last night, about their childhood home and the big maple tree in the front yard. They had carved their initials into it one summer, a secret they thought would last forever. The tree was probably still the
re, older, with the carving grown faint and stretched. Time did that to things. A jogger passed by, headphones on, lost in their own rhythm. The sun was warm on his face. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket, one he carried for random thoughts.
He hadn't written anything in it for weeks. The blank page stared back, full of potential. He put the pen to paper and started describing the scene: the gray of the path, the green of the grass, the way the light dappled through the willow branches.
Writing made him see things more clearly, notice details he otherwise would have missed. The bench was cool through his jeans. A duck landed on the pond with a soft splash, sending ripples across the surface. He watched it paddle around, dipping its
head underwater occasionally. Simple, purposeful movements. His phone was in his bag, but he felt no urge to check it. The disconnected feeling was a relief, a small pocket of peace. He knew he'd have to go back soon, to the noise and the lists and
the demands, but for now, this was enough. The notebook page filled slowly, each word a anchor to the present moment. The squirrel chattered from above, a scolding sound. He looked up and it was gone, vanished into the canopy. The park felt timeless,
a place where minutes stretched and contracted. He finished writing and put the notebook away, leaning back to simply be there a little while longer.
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