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On the rug beneath Elias’s desk, there was a small, melting pile of fresh snow.

showed a small cedar shack tucked under the heavy boughs of a spruce tree, its windows glowing with a low, amber light. On the rug beneath Elias’s desk, there was

The cursor hovered over the file labeled A single set of footprints led away from

It was a close-up of a heavy oak door, slightly ajar. A single set of footprints led away from the camera, toward the treeline. Elias found himself staring at the resolution—so crisp he could see the individual flakes of frost on the iron hinges. He set it as his background. Elias had downloaded it on a whim during

Elias had downloaded it on a whim during a particularly humid July night in the city. Now, as the first real snow of December began to blur the world outside his window, he finally clicked "Extract."

That night, the heating in his apartment failed. As the room grew cold, Elias didn't shiver. He stared at the screen. He could almost smell the woodsmoke. He could almost hear the crunch of snow under boots.

One by one, the images filled his screen. They were more than just wallpapers; they were windows.