Spices (FIRST DRAFT) ~ An Alejandro and Alfred Story

𝓝𝓲𝓷𝓮

Back in Kentucky, snowfall was pretty common. It wasn't as extreme as in the North, and we never got white Christmas', but we enjoyed a few inches of snow throughout the winter months.

That's why time felt backward in New Orleans. Instead of snow, they got rain and storms every now and then. The last time it snowed in New Orleans was in 1963.

I began to feel lonely around the holidays. I didn't have a family to celebrate with, just an empty office building. After the Secret Santa gift exchange, everyone left. I was envious of the other workers who had family in the city, this is their real home anyway.

Because I didn't have any plans, a lot of the paperwork got handed over to me. I might as well do it if I have nothing to do, right?

I sat in my quiet office room, door open, leaving messages on the phone for people once they get back to work, filling out paperwork, going over contracts, when I heard a knock on my door frame.

Georgie leans against it and crosses his arms. "Still here?" he asked me.

I look back down at the mess of papers on my desk and exhale slowly. "Yeah. And I see you are too."

"Well, both of our families are in Somerset." He walks in and pushes a few papers aside, taking a seat on the edge of my desk. "Wish I was there," he adds. "I miss the snow."

I tap my pen against the palm of my hand. "Remember when Mrs. Lavender would make that awful watered-down hot chocolate?"

Georgie cringes. "Oh God. And the whole town acted like it was good because she was old."

We both laugh dryly. The awkward, silent atmosphere makes our situation seem so sad. Stuck in this dusty building, no family to go to for the holidays. Despite having money, it won't give you love.

Georgie suddenly stands up and silently walks out of the room. When he returns, he has two coffee cups in his hand, which I recognize as the ones from the break room and a large gift bag in the other.

I stare at him, confused, and he suggests we have our own little Christmas celebration here in the office. Just the two of us. "Besides," he says. "It's been a while since we hung out together."

Inside the gift bag were cookies, candies, and other small Christmas snacks. He got the bag from when we did our secret santa exchange, and it's been sitting in his office ever since, not having anyone to share it with, and not wanting to eat it all alone.

Georgie took a chair from the office next door, and we sat together, enjoying the snacks, talking, catching up on personal lives, and recalling fine memories from Kentucky winters.

It was a pathetic little moment we shared. Both of us silently conceded that business and the dream of a luxurious life forced us to make sacrifices. Painful sacrifices.

There was no gift exchange that traditional friends would do. There was no point anyway; no matter what one would get the other, he could afford it anytime. The one thing we could never buy was the time we spend together and the warmth you get from the presence of someone you love.

I've always tried to be heartless like my father. Dedicate myself to my work, cutting any loose ends or distractions. 'Unnecessary shit' he always said. But I could never do that. Socialising is my way to connect with people. It gives me a path to follow, a goal in life, a reason to keep going. Without friends or a person to talk to, I would have given up long ago.

I cling tight to the relationships I make. Every little thing they do stands out to me, and each action, good or bad, feels like progress in the bond. If I let go, I lose memories, myself, and any remaining hope I have.