Another Lonely Christmas
*~*~*
Someone had to do it...
*~*~*
She smiled another one of those empty, half smiles. The sort of smile one's lips dress themselves in while recalling a fond memory that can never really be touched again.
One by one, she hung the pink and purple ornaments on the tree until no pine bristle was left naked. It was perfect, really, a simple and lonely life leads one to be choosy and painstakingly selective about the tiny details that really shouldn't matter at all.
The fireplace drowned the warm, cozy room in a reddish-yellow hue, and as she paused in her work over a cup of eggnog she absently observed the presents underneath the tree.
There were only three. Three boxes, all the same size, wrapped complete with tinsel and bow, aligned in a row. All cardboard boxes, waiting to be opened with the same false pretenses she had always lived her life by. Because every box was empty. One for the past. One for the present. And one for the future.
For a quick, fleeting moment she allowed herself to imagine brief scenes, some actual events, some not, of the two of them together. Cuddling with a fleece blanket and warm cups of hot chocolate. Playfully bickering over whose turn it was to blow out the day-by-day Christmas countdown candle. Sharing a prolonged kiss underneath the mistletoe she had hanging over her bedroom door. Making love in front of the fireplace.
Somewhere in the background, "Oh Holy Night" was playing, sung by a choir of lonely little children who believed their dreams could come true on an evening such as this; when you left a plate of cookies out, and told Jesus Happy Birthday first thing in the morning when you passed by the manger scene cluttering the coffee table.
But she didn't have the strength anymore to tell them otherwise.
The fire began to die down, but she just sat beside the tree with her stale drink and let the flames cease to be.
It was going to be another lonely Christmas.
*~*~*
Someone had to do it...
*~*~*
She smiled another one of those empty, half smiles. The sort of smile one's lips dress themselves in while recalling a fond memory that can never really be touched again.
One by one, she hung the pink and purple ornaments on the tree until no pine bristle was left naked. It was perfect, really, a simple and lonely life leads one to be choosy and painstakingly selective about the tiny details that really shouldn't matter at all.
The fireplace drowned the warm, cozy room in a reddish-yellow hue, and as she paused in her work over a cup of eggnog she absently observed the presents underneath the tree.
There were only three. Three boxes, all the same size, wrapped complete with tinsel and bow, aligned in a row. All cardboard boxes, waiting to be opened with the same false pretenses she had always lived her life by. Because every box was empty. One for the past. One for the present. And one for the future.
For a quick, fleeting moment she allowed herself to imagine brief scenes, some actual events, some not, of the two of them together. Cuddling with a fleece blanket and warm cups of hot chocolate. Playfully bickering over whose turn it was to blow out the day-by-day Christmas countdown candle. Sharing a prolonged kiss underneath the mistletoe she had hanging over her bedroom door. Making love in front of the fireplace.
Somewhere in the background, "Oh Holy Night" was playing, sung by a choir of lonely little children who believed their dreams could come true on an evening such as this; when you left a plate of cookies out, and told Jesus Happy Birthday first thing in the morning when you passed by the manger scene cluttering the coffee table.
But she didn't have the strength anymore to tell them otherwise.
The fire began to die down, but she just sat beside the tree with her stale drink and let the flames cease to be.
It was going to be another lonely Christmas.