Have Some Cake

Christmas: Montreal, QC (6/12)

Montreal, Québec, Canada

Pierre-Luc Dubois ambles down the snow-blanketed sidewalks of Downtown Montreal. Soft snow drifts around him as warm lampposts to his left light up the dim winter day. He pulls out his smartphone from his jacket's pocket and peers down at it.

His phone displays a checklist. All of the bubbles have been filled except for the last one: Chocolats comme cadeau pour Maman et Papa.

A smile grows on his face. He then peers back up and continues strolling.

Small shops pass by him to his right, displaying their holiday-themed products on their large windows. Each window is bordered by Christmas lights, snow, and garlands; the warm lights from the shop cast faded, golden rays into the cool, grey outside.

Pierre-Luc's eyes reflect the lights as he gazes each passing window. The windows show their products among mannequins of Santa and plush reindeers: winter coats, homemade toys, baskets of bath supplies, boxes of chocolates.

Pierre-Luc halts at the glimmer of gold catching the corner of his eye. He backs up to the large window and peers inside it.

On the other side, among the blanket of white felt and slim boxes is a stack of three boxes of chocolates held together by a brilliant red bow.

Pierre-Luc presses his palms against the glass as his eyes sparkle at the gift. "C'est parfait!" he murmurs.

He then rushes into the store, being greeted by the rush of mellow air and the sweet aroma of chocolates. He stops in the middle of the entrance and gazes ahead.

On the other side is the section of holiday chocolates. And on an empty shelf against the wall, in all of its glory, is the exact box of chocolates.

Pierre-Luc strides up to the shelf with his eyes glued on it. The box bounces closer to him. With a large grin as he approaches it, Pierre-Luc reaches his hands out to it.

And the box is swiped away by another pair of hands.

Pierre-Luc freezes in place, overcome with utter shock. He then blinks in confusion, loosening himself. He turns to his right, from where the hands came.

Standing next to him is Victor Mete. His attention is on the three-in-one gift of chocolates in his hands. He has it held to his vision as he inspects it.

Pierre-Luc stares at Victor, his grey-blue eyes piercing at the gift. The box turns, spins, tilts, pans in the defenceman's hands. Pierre-Luc's heart is racing; he's sweating; his clammy hands are in fists; his eyes follow the whirling box.

Then Victor holds the box still at his eye level. He nods, turns around, and walks away.

Pierre-Luc gapes. He then glances at the shelves to his left.

The cream-coloured walls behind the shelves stare back at him.

He whirls back ahead of him. Victor is approaching the long line in front of the cash register. Poking out from behind his shoulder is the red bow of the chocolates.

Pierre-Luc swallows, gathering his confidence, and shouts in his French-Canadian accent, "Hey! Victor!"

Victor halts. He then whirls around, his face full of surprise.

Pierre-Luc steps up to him cautiously. "Are you going to buy that chocolate?" He points to the gift in his hands.

Victor peers down at it. "Uh, yeah." He gazes back up at him. "How else can I eat it legally?"