Wreath

Every day since the beginning of December, a "card" appears in Ben's mailbox.

He says "card" because it comes in a privacy envelope that has been folded to fit around the scrap copy paper inside. On the front of each "card", there is a crudely drawn picture of something festive, and today is an asymmetrical wreath, penned in black ink with cartoonish shading on the bow.

The message inside simply reads, "Fuck off."

Ben glances across the street where Rey immediately rearranges her armful of groceries just to flip him off.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Fuck off!"

He smiles.

She's the worst.