He stopped when he reached the clearing. There, sitting solitary against the vast expanse of white, was the bench.
Ahead, the familiar outlines of the ancient oak trees began to dissolve into the dense fog. Their dark, gnarled branches stretched upward like arthritic fingers, clawing at the mist that swallowed them. The fog was a living thing today, rolling in slow, silent waves across the open meadow, obscuring the path ahead and erasing the world behind. Wallpaper Snow, Lonely Bench, Trees, Foggy Park
Kaelen walked through the park, his boots crunching rhythmically on the fresh snow. The world felt muffled, as if wrapped in thick cotton batting. It reminded him of the digital landscapes he designed for a living, specifically the one he had titled Isolation . He had spent weeks perfect-ing the gradients of grey and the soft, feather-like quality of the falling flakes in that virtual world. Now, standing in the middle of it, the reality was far colder and more breathtaking than any high-definition screen could ever render. He stopped when he reached the clearing