Lift the box down from its shelf, gently unwrap the tissue paper, arrange everything just so. You now preside godlike over your very own simulacrum of holiday cheer!

What fate awaits the fictitious revelers in your care? Can they feel the warmth of your kindly attention, the indolent chill of your disdain? Have they any respect for the precarious nature of their reality, the lowliness and relative simplicity of their station in the extended microcosm? Or will they alleviate their existential crisis by gazing further inward, laying out a smaller carved village of their own, accessing elusive forms of coziness on a miniature scale?

No judgment, we get it. Tiny shit is so cute!