Michonne would have past the toy store had she not stopped to send a text message to her sister. The exterior was unassuming; the only identification was the name on the door — Fog City Toy Co. A bell signaled her entrance. The Christmas tree sitting in the small display window was real. Nice touch. Unfortunately, it blocked pedestrians' view inside the store.

The store was empty with not even an employee in sight. The wireless speaker on the shelf behind the register was enough to fill the small store with the sounds of Nat King Cole. At first glance, the toy selection was meager; it appeared this would be a waste of time, but the 17-mph San Francisco winds made her stick around for an insincere walk-through.

"You know the rules." A man placed a box on the counter.

"Excuse me?" She frowned.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "Everyone who comes in is a regular."

"If I were a regular wouldn't you recognize me?"

There was silence between them. She watched him as he studied her.

He grinned. "I recently started working more. I'm still learning names and faces. My name is Rick." He extended his hand.

"Michonne." She shook it.

Soft hands. No ring. Clean fingernails. Eye contact when he spoke. Easy smile. Cute.

The sales associate didn't look like a toy store employee. He looked like an architect, a magazine editor, a startup CEO. He reminded her of the Silicon Valley guys she dealt with who wanted to look like an everyman so they wore $1,000 jeans.

No man just happened to wear a shirt that brings out the color in eyes that blue. Rick was sure of himself, which was why he unabashedly took her in.

"How can I help you, Michonne?"

She loved her name. Not just because it was different, but it was one of those names people said with such flair and reverence it made her feel important.

"I need gifts for my niece and nephew and I'm desperate," she said. She walked toward a display with toy trains. Did kids still play with toy trains? Especially ones that weren't electric?

"So I'm your last hope?"

"Yes." She stopped. "Shit," she muttered. Michonne turned and faced him. "No, of course not. Sorry." She genuinely did not want to disparage the store. She didn't think it had what she needed, but it was a charming place.

He smiled. "It's okay. So, desperate Michonne. Anything in particular your niece and nephew like?"

She surveyed the store again. "I'm not sure-"

"Do they stare at screens all day?"

"If my sister would allow it."

He nodded and looked around the tiny store. "And you couldn't find anything on Amazon?"

"Not my style for buying gifts."

"You gift with love."

She thought for a moment. "I suppose I do. I never heard it said like that before."

"I can't take credit," he said, walking to a shelf on the wall. "My grandfather said it all the time. It's why he opened this store."

"So, it's your grandfather's store?" She nodded. "Makes sense."

"How so?"

"It's definitely... of yore." She attempted to contain her smile.

He laughed. "Of yore. That's a nice way of saying old."

"I…" She raised her hands in defeat. "I'm just going to stop while I'm ahead."

As Rick guided her through the store telling the story of each toy, they became more than uninspiring options and she had a hard time choosing just two gifts.

"I would love to see their faces when they open these," Rick said as he led the way to the register.

"Me too," she mumbled.

"Sorry?"

She gave a wave of her hand. "They're spending the holiday with their dad's family in Sacramento. I have to get their gifts to them today. They're hitting the road first thing in the morning."

"They can't open it today?"

"Today is not Christmas Day." Structured was the nicest way to describe her sister. Maybe Michonne could talk her into letting the kids open the gifts if it were Christmas Eve, but not December 22nd. "So how much?" She dug in her purse for her wallet.

"Ninety-four dollars," he said.

Wow. For two toys that didn't even require batteries.

"You don't gift wrap, do you?" She asked.

He laughed. "It's not typically a service we provide," he said as he leaned down under the counter. "But I have wrapping paper if you really need my help."

He pulled out a roll of red Christmas wrapping paper with candy canes and snowflakes. She could have done that thing where she tells the person not to worry about it, but she was on a deadline and she was terrible at wrapping gifts. Gift bags were made for people like her.

"I'd say I owe you, but I did just pay like a year's worth of Iced Caramel Macchiatos," she said.

"The best coffee is Pinhole right off Bonview," he said as he unrolled the paper.

"I'll keep that in mind." She watched as he effortlessly wrapped the gifts.

"See you around," he called out.

Michonne tried to remain calm as traffic crawled on I-80 as she drove to her sister's home in Oakland. She figured driving in San Francisco would be a thousand times less stressful than it was in Los Angeles. Turned out, the only traffic worse than the last city you drove in was the current one you were in.

"Why don't you come with us? Keith's family loves to entertain. The more the merrier." Joy's voice came through the car's speakers.

If Michonne loved Christmas she might have taken up her sister's offer, but she didn't love the holidays. She didn't hate them; she was indifferent. They were as special as you made them. She was just as happy spending time with the people she loved on the third Wednesday in March as she was on December 25th.

"I'll pass."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"Of course I do. The same dry ass turkey you always complain about. And Sacramento."

Michonne laughed as she listened to her sister groan.

Chapter 2 is written by iminyjo and will be posted on her account (iminyjo) on this site on December 23, 2020.