It was late, and Smoker knew he should set the eggnog down and head to bed. True, he really didn't have to get up early tomorrow. He had given the whole crew the day off for the holiday. They'd thanked him and left the ship in haste, ready to spend their Christmas on land in a warm inn. Smoker had watched them leave without feeling any need to join them. But now as he watched the snow come down, he felt alone.
Whatever he was waiting for wasn't coming. Smoker grabbed the glass of eggnog and drank it quickly, willing that the alcohol mixed in would tear away his melancholy. He stood slowly, as if it pained him to move, and walked out of his cabin to breathe in the cold air.
As he stood at the bow looking out at the small port town, a figure danced along the edges of his vision. Smoker whipped his head to the left, heart lifting at what he saw. But the apparition was gone.
He told himself that next holiday season would be spent in warmer climate so that he wouldn't be so miserable. He knew it for a lie. Smoker shivered against the biting wind, feeling uncontrollably colder as though whatever inside fire had been heating his heart had vanished.