Outside, the air bites.
The trees stand bare and still, roofs wear a faint shimmer of frost, and the sky holds the pale blue of a winter morning.
But inside, it’s different. Inside, there’s warmth. My cat stretched across the windowsill, perfectly content in a patch of sunlight. The soft folds of a blanket left behind. The kind of warmth that’s less about temperature and more about the kind of comfort that only home can offer.
I didn’t plan this photo. I just turned around, saw him there, and knew it was a moment worth keeping. The contrast between the cold blue outside and the stillness inside said everything I couldn’t.
