I kissed her there, under the mistletoe. Her first Christmas alone, without anyone to hold her, love her, and tell her 'Merry Christmas!'
How could they have been so careless to speed down the road when they were so icy. Who could've so stupid to drive then at that time. That idiocy cost someone's life, my life. Now my dear wife has to spend Christmas alone.
Now she sits there under the mistletoe with pain fixed in her glassy eyes. A single, silent year travels down her face. I kissed her again and told her, "You're not alone."
