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I’m not complaining about my extra gift under the tree this year.
If only I could track down the sweet talker responsible for stuffing my stocking.
Not that I can fault his lack of presence.
We’d agreed to a simple exchange.
No last names.
Just one night of mutual jingle and cheer.
After our jollies were sated, we let the night become a ghost of Christmas past.
It was the perfect hookup…
Until I found myself left with a yuletide glow to carry alone.
It’s a fact I’ve come to accept like the winter snow.
Then our eyes meet across the crowded terminal.
And this time, he wants the whole package.