Every user-facing surface of Tabatha - the browser extension, the desktop companion, and the mobile app - rendered from each product's own design system: the halved corner-radius scale, the Pop-Art dark palette, emoji-native iconography, and JetBrains Mono timers. Five of these double as the Chrome Web Store screenshots, captured at an exact 1280×800.
Tabatha is three programs that share one clock. They exist separately because attention does not respect process boundaries but operating systems do: an extension can see your tabs and nothing else, a desktop app can see your windows but not what is inside a tab, and neither is in your pocket at 8am. Splitting them is not an architecture preference, it is the only way to see a whole day. Splitting them is also the hard part - so the rule underneath all three is that one shift exists at a time, wherever you started it, and each program yields to whichever of them can actually see what you are doing right now.
A surface is a whole place in Tabatha you can be: the gate that interrupts a new tab, the sidebar that replaces the browser's own tab strip, the dashboard that replaces the new-tab page. They exist because an attention tool cannot live in one panel - the moment you need to declare intent is not the moment you need to review your week, and neither belongs in a popup. Each frame below is the real UI at the size it actually ships, not a mockup of it.
The surfaces above are assembled from these ninety components, grouped by the job they do rather than by where they happen to render. Most are shown in several states, because the states are where the product's opinions live: a focus that has drifted, a stint left open by a machine that went to sleep, a queue with nothing in it. Each card names the file it comes from, so what you read here can be checked against the source.