literature

The 26th

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Irrelephantlovesyou's avatar
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Literature Text

There is a Christmas tree in my hallway, decorated with globes and gold and lithium words. I pass it everyday on my way to the metro, to catch the 9 o'clock train heading out of town, out of state, out of life. The holidays have long since passed, but you insist on leaving it up, believing in the off chance that they might return someday. I know they won't, though, for the empty boxes are all unwrapped and the holly wreathes have withered from prolonged exposure to desolate, teardrop snow.

Every morning you wake me up, bells on your wrists and a red hat dangling from your head, your voice an enthused whisper as you tell me Christmas is here. I pretend to believe you, pretend to have hope and stumble out of the room after you, and pretend to be disappointed when I find the tree's needles have all trickled to the ground. It's dying and I try to avoid your broken-hearted face as you crumble in defeat, lay in the December dust and become a beautiful ornament broken by a careless lover, the bare tree marking your grave.

You always loved Christmas, but dreaded the days after, when the magic songs ended and the lights were taken down and reality finally returned, tasting like day-old hot chocolate. Those were the mornings spent staring at the leftover wrapping paper, smiling Santas and red and green stripes all blurring together in your tearstained eyes. Whenever I tried to comfort you, you'd push me away, gripping one last bow-topped box tighter, too afraid to open it and let the last of the sacred day escape from your grasp.
Merry.
© 2012 - 2024 Irrelephantlovesyou
Comments4
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Nemonus's avatar
The detail and vulnerability here, especially "I pretend to be disappointed" is striking. Great job.