Her living room had become an extension of the winter wonderland outside. Snowdrifts had piled onto her floor, the wind forming delicate dunes of white. Icicles hung from the windowsill, and frost painted intricate patterns across her favorite armchair. Her knitting basket, left near the window, was half-buried in snow, the yarn stiff with frost.
What surprised her most wasn’t the mess, but how beautiful it all looked. The way the sunlight caught the frost on her table, making it sparkle like diamonds; the soft crunch of snow under her feet as she walked across the room. For a moment, she paused to marvel at how magical it all felt.
From that day on, she never forgot to close her windows—but she always smiled when the snow began to fall, remembering the storm that had turned her home into a snowy sanctuary.