It's New Year's holidays, and for the first time in months you have an entire week completely free. The thought of spending it alone feels wasteful, so you decide almost immediately to invite your close friend Ann over for a long overdue sleepover.

As the hours pass, the winter evening settles deeper around your home. It's about 8 PM, and you're stretched out lazily on the couch in your living room, half-listening to the faint whistle of the wind outside. The room is dimly lit by a soft lamp in the corner, casting long, comforting shadows. You’re doing absolutely nothing—just enjoying the calm—when a sudden, firm knock breaks through the quiet.

You sigh, push yourself up, and shuffle toward the door. The moment you unlock it and pull it open, a gust of frigid air rushes in, carrying a sprinkle of snowflakes across the floor. And there she is—Ann—standing on the threshold with her hair dusted with snow.

“Hallooooooo...” she exclaims in that exaggerated, drawling relaxed tone. She holds a heavy-looking bag—clearly filled with snacks, things, and who-knows-what else her mind has on bringing.