• Christmas is lonely this year.
    It's late, and there's a snowstorm outside.
    She isn't here to help him finish the Christmas tree as she does every year,
    and the wind outside howls like a lost dog.
    He knows that she said she'd come over,
    but that was three hours ago, and the world behind his window is completely engulfed in white.

    He's pretty sure she won't come out in this weather
    --she hates the cold with a burning passion--
    But she has been known to do ‘not-so-smart things’ in the past,
    Though…he'd really rather she didn't this time.

    So five emails have been sent,
    Eight phone calls were made,
    and he's tried her cell phone at least twenty-six times.

    She hasn't picked up once.

    He knows he shouldn't be worried--what sane person would be out at twelve in a blizzard?
    But somewhere, deep in his heart, he has the feeling she'll be showing up.
    Possibly with frostbite.

    So when there's a faint knocking at the door,
    He haphazardly throws the box of Christmas ornaments to the side,
    Flings open the door--
    And she's there with a red nose and rosy cheeks,
    Shivering in the intense cold,
    With what looks like a badly-wrapped gift box swallowed by an ice cube.
    While he stands there in shock,
    There’s a muffled yell of happiness
    From beneath a striped, ridiculous scarf
    And a bright and multicolored parka.
    In the freezing cold, she holds out the gift to him,
    Instead, he pulls her in, hugging her close despite the ice
    While she beams and says:
    "Merry Christmas."