From eb7011f509b867d913f9502d8cdc08f4474296b5 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: sideshowbarker Date: Mon, 3 Nov 2025 16:39:32 +0900 Subject: [PATCH] test: Update fixtures/no-lang.html to include more text content --- test/fixtures/no-lang.html | 10 +++++++++- 1 file changed, 9 insertions(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/test/fixtures/no-lang.html b/test/fixtures/no-lang.html index ec3c29d..2c1aeb1 100644 --- a/test/fixtures/no-lang.html +++ b/test/fixtures/no-lang.html @@ -6,7 +6,15 @@
-

Foo

+

+ The rain had been falling since dawn, a steady, whispering rhythm against the old house’s wooden shutters. In the kitchen, the air smelled faintly of coffee and damp paper. A clock ticked with the same soft persistence as the rain, marking time not with urgency, but resignation. On the table sat a stack of letters bound by a thin piece of twine — none opened, none forgotten. They had become part of the furniture, part of the scenery of waiting. +

+

+ Through the window, the garden was a blur of motion and mist. The roses bowed under the weight of the weather, their petals darkened to the color of dried wine. Somewhere, a crow called once and then fell silent. She wondered if anyone else was awake at this hour, if anyone else felt the same quiet heaviness pressing down on the day before it had even begun. +

+

+ There had been a time when mornings like this had seemed full of promise — the hush before something beautiful, rather than the echo of something gone. She lifted her coffee cup and watched the steam curl and vanish. It struck her that this, too, was a kind of disappearing — slow, gentle, unremarkable. The rain went on, patient and indifferent. +