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Snow descends on the town of Boyter. Children squeal with joy. Christmas decorations litter the small community. Winter is, and always will be, Addison Kimmel's favorite season. She adores the cold, the ice, and the beautiful lights that make Boyter glow with exuberance.
The snow keeps Addison in tranquility, finding solace in the days where the verglas daubs dormant trees. She loathes the sickness that may accompany the season, but she has never complained. Something so ravishing does not deserve negativity.
Although it is only the first of December, Addison feels the inevitable pressure of Christmas. Every elder woman is talking about her grandchildren, every parent is running anxiously to get their children the gift of their dreams, and every child is awaiting the appearance of Santa Claus. Addison can't apprehend why innumerous families put themselves under multitudinous amounts of stress for one day of a year. It seems futile.
For now, Addison will neglect the thought of Christmas and achieve worthwhile tasks. She tugs on her coat, the cold air making her body rigid with goosebumps. Downtown Lounge is a mere three blocks away, but the blistering cold makes it seem like miles. She begins to regret not taking her car two blocks ago. Finally, she arrives.
"Hello, Addison! What brings you here on this mighty fine mornin'?" Addison's usual waitress, Jessica, asks, faking a Southern accent.
"Oh, you know. This and that. Why're you here? You don't work Thursday," Addison says, taking off her winter attire—gloves, beanie, coat, and scarf.
"I'm training the new kid. If I wasn't thirty, I would so hit that. He's so hot." Addison laughs at Jessica's choice of words, searching for this boy she spoke of.
"What do you want? Breakfast, lunch, dessert? Your pick."
"It's way past breakfast. I'll have a club sandwich with fries and a water," Addison answers, matter-of-factly.
"Coming right up, sweetness." Jessica winks and walks to the kitchen, leaving Addison to wallow in her own company.
"One club sandwich with fries and a water. Is there anything else I can get for you?" Logan asks in a sotto voice, hoping he is doing his job right.
"No, that's all. Thank you," the girl answers, concealing a laugh. Logan walks away, his cheeks scarlet. He wonders why she's laughing; did he do something wrong?
Addison begins to eat, taking in the area around her. It gives off a small vintage vibe—tall chairs and tables covering the wooden floors. Mock chandeliers drape over each table, totaling three. Addison sat on the left bar and had a perfect view of the small stage, which often hosts poets and unknown musicians. Alcohol lines the walls of the right bar, usually used for the evening. It gives off a calming sensation.
Before she finishes her meal, Addison is full. She waves over Logan, asking for a to-go box. When he returns with the box and the bill, she piles the remaining food into the box and exits the bar.
"Thanks for the amazing service, Jess," Addison says to Jessica as she hands Logan her payment.
"As always," Jessica jokes as Logan gives Addison her change. "Hey, what're you doing for Christmas?" "Probably sitting in my apartment, sleeping peacefully, and not dying from an overstuffed abdomen." Addison laughs, closing her wallet.
"You won't be with your family?" Logan chimes in. Her face falls.
"Nah."
"No gifts or anything?"
"Nope, it's just another day," Addison replies. Logan's jaw drops.
"Christmas is the best time of the year! What're you doing with your life?" She laughs, grabs her winter apparel, and waves goodbye. Logan follows her out. "What's your name?" He asks, rubbing his hands together. He forgets how cold it is.
"Addison. What's yours?"
"Logan." He pauses before asking, "Why don't you like Christmas?"
Addison sighs. "I never said I didn't like it, I just don't see why everyone fusses about it." Logan shakes his head, appalled.
"Everyone loves Christmas. There must be a reason." He begins to walk with her, and an idea pops into his head. "Hey, what's your phone number? If you don't mind."
"Why?" Addison laughs, stopping. Her breath is crystal clear in the cold air.
"I want to show you why you should make a fuss about Christmas." - edited by the great @solitarypathways! myself and my readers can never thank you enough.
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