Dear Carol Bells

| December 2nd |

| December 2, 2018 |

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Eek! Chapter 2! Here we go! Do let me know what you think by commenting and voting! 

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| December 2nd |

Here comes Santa Claus

Here comes Santa Claus

Right down Santa Claus Lane

Dear Carol Bells,

The song matches with how I'm trying but failing to come up in your lane. But, carrying on.

I probably will sound like such a creep right now and I won't blame you if you think so. I would. But earlier today, as I sat in the coffee shop with my niece (can't describe her since you'll try to remember her in the crowded rush today; she's quite easy to spot), I watched as you were handed a letter. My letter. 

Your brows pulled together in a cute manner to display your confusion. You then tucked it in your apron pocket to continue working, but I noticed how your hand twitched every spare moment towards the pocket and how your eyes would glance down every so often.

I also enjoyed watching you finally go on break (it was only five or so minutes since you were handed my letter) and hide away in a little corner (near me might I add) to open my letter.

I witnessed how you frowned in confusion before turning a bit pale and clenching the paper a bit more firmly than necessary. I then watched as a film of tears covered your eyes before you blinked them back, a shuddering breath being released right after.

I continued to watch, trying to ignore my niece until she stated she had to use the potty. But before then, I watched how a small smile stretched your lips upwards as your eyes darted across the paper. I watched as you bit your lower lip and how your brows pinched together again. I knew you were disagreeing with my latter part of the letter.

You were just getting to the good part before my niece tugged my sleeve and demanded I take her to the potty room, as she calls it. With a slightly frustrated sigh, I stood up and led her to the restrooms, swiftly glancing your way, only to see you wiping away a few stray tears and tucking the letter back in your apron pocket.

Carol, I know this suspense is probably killing you. Who could be writing me? Is this just a prank? Am I being Punked? Ashton Kutcher, where you at? Is this a pedophile? Those are some of your questions I bet.

But a deeper part of you, one you try to silence, is enjoying the suspense because it's barely beginning. The fact that a total stranger (although we aren't total strangers) is writing you with such details about your life, it intrigues you as well as creeps you out.

Don't worry, dear Carol Bells. I'm harmless. I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. I would give everything I can to bring true happiness in your smiles and life. But, once again, I'm a chicken and remain hiding behind pen and paper. However, that doesn't make my feelings for you any less real. I'm just working up the courage to finally be the man you can rely on.

Yours,

Saint Nick