Suddenly, the passenger door creaks open. A figure in a heavy, oversized parka climbs in, clutching something small to their chest. The camera shakes as the driver—the narrator—adjusts to look at them. "Did you get it?"

The cursor hovered over the file. It was buried in a folder titled Unsorted_Backup_2022 , sandwiched between a blurry photo of a receipt and a screenshot of a weather app. Elias clicked play.

"The night shift guy let me take him," she says, her voice cracking. "He said he wouldn't make it through the freeze tonight."

The kitten lets out a tiny, silent yawn. The driver laughs—a warm, shaky sound that fills the cramped car.

"We’re going to get in so much trouble," the driver says, but they’re already reaching out a finger to stroke the kitten’s head. "Worth it," she whispers.

Elias leaned back. Outside his window, it was a bright spring afternoon in 2026. He looked down at the ginger cat sleeping soundly across his keyboard—four years older, ten pounds heavier, and entirely unaware that his origin story was saved as a string of numbers in a forgotten folder.