For the first time, his computer didn't feel like a toolbox. It felt like a desk. A real, physical desk. The windows were papers you could slide and overlap, the taskbar was a tray of pens, and the translucent glass was the airy, quiet space around the work.

Elias was a man who prided himself on efficiency. His computer desktop was a monument to it: a flat, charcoal background, icons clustered in rigid alphabetical order, no widgets, no wallpaper. It was a tool. Anything else was a distraction.

And in the silence of his office, Elias realized he hadn't just lost a theme. He had lost a window.

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