in my heart // n.h a.u

part one

Val is certain she loves nothing more than Christmas. Her lipstick  collection is a very close second, but once December hits, there is no  chance in hell she will love anything more than what she claims to be  the best time of the year. Her friends and family always roll their eyes  and sigh dramatically the second she brings up Christmas, being well  educated on her love and endless chatter on the matter, but she can't  help it — she just really fucking loves Christmas.

Like many  people, the first of the month is the day the tree goes up in her lounge  room near the window, decorated to her specific liking. But unlike many  people, Val's Christmas present shopping is always complete with still a  couple of weeks spare. Christmas is at the same time every single year,  so she doesn't understand how people can still be trying to find that  perfect gift the day before. Unless it's a leap year, there's always 364  days to do all the essential shopping — it's plenty of time, really.

And  so today, the eleventh of December, Val walks out of Boots with a bag  in each arm and a smile on her face because she is done. A perfume for  her thirteen year old cousin that she remembers being obsessed with at  that age, a new Smashbox lipstick to match the one her friend always  ends up stealing from her, and a new shaving set for her dad because  it's been forever since she bought him the last one. Val also bought  some knew knickers after seeing they were on special, because, hey, a  girl can spoil herself every now and then, too. All she has to do now is  wrap the Christmas presents up and stick them under the tree, which is  yet another part of Christmas she enjoys. There is something about  wrapping a present with so much precision, making sure every corner is  tucked correctly and the tape doesn't look untidy, that just really gets  Val going.

Val carefully maneuvers her way around the crowd  that's already increasing far too much daily, zig zagging between a  couple that both have bright pink hair and a family with two children  that can't decide on what they want to ask Santa for. For a second, once  she has made it through everyone and is on the side of the road with  plenty of space around her, she contemplates finding a taxi or ordering  an Uber, but considering the weather is only going to get colder and the  snow is only going to fall harder, she figures she may as well make use  of being outside while she still can. Besides, her flat is only two and  a half blocks away, and she's only holding a few things in her arms.

Nearly one block down, Val reads a chalkboard sign out the front of one of her favourite coffee shops that makes her giggle — 'tis the season to be full of coffee (fa la la la like the rest of the year)  — and the sign is reason enough for her to go inside and order a coffee  to go. She thinks about staying at first because she will have to carry  both the drink and the Boots bags, but she figures the quicker she gets  home, the quicker she can pull out her wrapping paper and curling  ribbon and Christmas themed tape and most likely everything else from  her wrapping station (yes, she considers her desk her wrapping station  this time of year). And Val likes the thought of that a lot.

But  as she's another block down, Val realises that maybe she should have  ordered an Uber instead. She pushed herself at the gym a little harder  than normal earlier in the day so her muscles are telling her off, she  forgot this is only the second time she's worn these shoes and so they  haven't properly been worn in yet, and being outside for a long period  of time is not helping her body temperature at all. She may be walking —  at a decent pace, too — but it's not helping her out all that much.  Instead, she clutches onto her handbag over her shoulder tighter and  puts her head forward, trying to power through the rest as much as she  can.

As much as Val loves this time of year and the wrapping  station awaiting her, it's safe to say that her mood has decreased  majorly within a ten minute period.