WEBVTT

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Outside, the world was shrinking behind a heavy

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veil of winter frost, painting delicate,

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fern -like patterns across the glass.

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Inside, the room belonged entirely to the dusk.

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The fading light outside bled through the window

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in shades of bruised, dusky blue,

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creeping across the floorboards until it met the

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fierce, golden perimeter cast by the

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hearth.

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Clara tucked her legs beneath her favorite quilt

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and pulled her oversized armchair a

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little closer to the warmth.

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The fireplace was alive, a crackling sanctuary of

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amber embers and dry pine that popped

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softly in the quiet room.

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On her lap rested a sprawling, comforting mass

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of detailed yarn texture, a deep forest

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green wool that felt like moss and heavy

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earth between her fingers.

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Row by row, click by click of her

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smooth wooden needles, she was knitting herself a

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fortress

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against the cold.

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As the shadows deepened and the first evening

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stars struggled to pierce the winter sky,

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the house settled into a nostalgic rhythm.

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The fire snapped, casting dancing shadows against the

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walls, while the steady, meditative

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click of the needles kept time.

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With every stitch, the day's worries melted away

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into the woollen folds, leaving only

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the hypnotic warmth of the fire, the quiet

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embrace of twilight, and the peaceful promise

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of a long winter night.