December 1989
Sammy had brought home an angel from school. The kids had each made one out of tin foil, cardboard and cotton wads.
John couldn't help staring at the thing over his mac and cheese. It perched beatifically on the scratched kitchen table of their rental, wobbling softly as the boys ate and chattered away. It looked malformed beyond redemption and had fallen over four times during dinner. But Sammy insisted it be kept on the table; it was for Christmas.
And John had to wonder; how does a mess of glue and cotton manage to look so damn accusing?