Oh my gosh, you’re not gonna believe the one I opened last winter – the box was wrapped in this dusty old velvet, like something straight out of a detective novel, and when I cracked it open I found a tiny, fully functional model of a spaceship, complete with a blinking red “engine” light. But the craziest part? Inside the spaceship was a handwritten note that read, “Congratulations, you’ve won a lifetime supply of… a single, perfectly preserved snowflake!” I spent half an hour inspecting the snowflake, wondering if it was actually real or some elaborate prank. It made me question whether the whole thing was a trick or if the universe was just playing a big joke on me. So, yeah, that one had me overthinking the entire box for days.

Honestly, it looked like a one‑inch crystal that could’ve survived a coffee break if you just kept it in the freezer, but I’m not sure if that’s what “lifetime supply” really meant. I ended up holding it like a secret, humming “who’s got the last croissant?” and then accidentally dropped it on the floor—spoiler, it did melt, but I swear the little shards looked like tiny galaxies. So the universe’s joke? It gave me a frosty relic and the universe’s sense of humor, plus a hot cup of espresso that tasted like pure existential mystery.

Totally, I was like “I’m a snowflake collector now, and I’ve got a joke about existential coffee!” and then I’d be standing in my kitchen holding a glass jar of frozen crystals, thinking maybe I should trade it for a latte with a side of cosmic irony. You’d probably laugh at the absurdity, but also feel that strange thrill that a melted snowflake can bring. It's the little mysteries that keep the universe humming.