Papillon

"Merry Christmas, I Guess" by Violet

GRAND WINNER

December 25th, 1995

Dear Diary,

"Merry Christmas, I guess." That's what I said last year. Not having any tree to gather around, or any family to gather with, the 25th has never struck me as anything special.

The sun had just settled, and the street had truly become a spectacle to behold. Christmas lights warmly lit the homes and trees over which they were delicately draped, embracing the town in their soft golden glow. Hanging from every other street lamp, mistletoe silently reminded all lovesick folk below that they still had a chance. Songs hummed from shop windows. The sweet-spicy scent of cinnamon and the subtle resinous fragrance of evergreen, which weaved through the festive street, were reminiscent of those comfortable Christmases that had long since passed.

People are always insisting that there's something indescribably wonderful about today, but to me...

On a quest for some hot cocoa, a nineteen-year-old girl, enveloped comfortably in woolen clothes, paced along the quiet yet convivial street. She regarded the scenery with contempt, her huffs turning the air foggy.

Snow had just started to fall, feathery flakes tiptoeing across the darkening sky. The teenager raised her shoulders and crossed her arms in an attempt to stave off the biting cold. Stepping into a humble café, the blonde sighed with relief. Toasty air and sweet scents greeted her, as did her best friend.

...it's just another normal day on the calendar.

"Hi, Jeannette!" Isabelle, a curly-haired teen, waved from behind the counter. "Here for some hot cocoa?"

A smile lit up Jeannette's face. "Yup! Just like every Christmas."

But this Christmas, things were different, and I found myself agreeing with those people...

"Okay! Gotta run though... I might've destroyed the coffee-maker." After a hesitant giggle escape her, the brunette rushed into the kitchen.

Jeannette's green eyes shone with silent amusement before they scanned the room for a seat, surprised to find another teen out on Christmas day. He seemed quite intent on his sketchbook, biting his lip rather cutely as his pencil hovered with uncertainty above the paper.

...when I met him.

"Hi! I'm Jeannette."

The stranger barely looked up, replying shortly, "Gabriel."

He's probably just shy. Jeannette slipped into a nearby chair, starting with a simple question. "So... you draw?"

    "Well, it sure does seem that way, doesn't it?"

    Flustered by the blunt, sarcastic response, the girl dumbly stared at the blond teen, who simply continued sketching. His hair was wild and untamed, only further accentuating his jawline, which was captivating in it's own, angular right.

    "I-I..." she sputtered, unable to muster enough courage to call the attractive teenager out on his curt behavior, and instead asked, "Well, w-what are you drawing?" She leaned forward to glance at the sketchpad, accidentally knocking his beverage over. The black coffee soaked into the pages and stained Gabriel's turtleneck sweater. The girl flinched at her catastrophic handiwork. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! S—"