Arthur scoffed. “They’re just links, Mom. Pointers to the real files.”
The video ended. Arthur stared at the cluttered desktop—the ugly icons, the confusing names, the chaotic galaxy. He slowly closed the video player, pulled his hand away from the mouse, and leaned back. windows desktops shortcuts
Then he saw it. The final shortcut, sitting alone in the bottom-right corner. It wasn't a blue link. It was a custom icon: a tiny, open hand. It was simply named: Son . Arthur scoffed