Hey Santa,
Why am I writing? I am Jewish and you are not. I think I'm drunk, maybe I am not. It's Christmas Eve. Meredith claims that it's a night spent with someone you love. Then why am I drinking alone at Joe's bar? Seriously, Mer must be having fun with her McDreamy now.
This is stupid. Joe is asking every customer to write a letter to you. First of all, you must be making your delivery with your elves tonight and won't have time to read last minute requests. Secondly, I don't believe in Santa Claus! I want to go home. Where is Burke?
When was the last time I wrote you a letter? Was I drunk last time? I remember I didn't last year. I was hiding in the hospital because I couldn't stand seeing my boyfriend cook with Izzie. This year I don't know where he is. Burke is spoiled I tell ya. I didn't say I didn't want to spend time with Jane and Donald. I even called my mother, the incredible Mrs. Rubenstein, before supper because of his "kind reminder". I was being polite all evening.
Ok, I know I should be glad—everyone thought we're over and we proved them wrong! I actually owe his parents a lot for bringing us together again. But why did he have to walk away when I told him I don't want to spend tomorrow with his parents? Can't we have some "us" time without "them"? Don't laugh. I am posseeeesive. I want him and no one else for Christmas. I know they are only here for 3 days and it isn't cheap flying over for Christmas. I know that. I already said I understand. I really do! I am not selfish. Maybe I am, but who isn't?
Sorry. I didn't mean to rant. Christmas sucks. I think I just saw Joe kissing Walter. Wait, there he is. No, I don't want to go home. What is he doing? His jacket is so warm. He's laughing at me for sniffing at his jacket. Hmmmm… it smells good. I love his cologne. But of course! I bought it for Thanksgiving.
I can't see what I'm writing. He's resting his hand on mine now. How can I write when he does that? Oh Burke, why are you smiling? I thought you're mad at me. My eyelids are heavy. Joe is evil. He must have put something funny in my drink. Someone is kissing my ear. I think my feet are off the ground now. I think I am in a cradle. Such a sturdy bed. Is it still Christmas Eve? I think I want this to last. This is what I want for Christmas. Him. Preston Burke.
Whatever. I am not a good girl and Santa won't listen to me.
From the best intern of SGH…