The night before Christmas,
I swore I wouldn’t fall asleep. I sat wedged between the window and the radiator, my breath fogging up the glass as I watched the driveway. Every car headlight sweeping across the lawn looked like it could be a sleigh; every creak of the floorboards sounded like boots on the roof.
Eventually, the hum of the heater won. I woke up the next morning with a stiff neck, a blanket thrown over me that I didn't remember grabbing, and the cookies downstairs reduced to crumbs. I was convinced I’d missed him by seconds.
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