What age did your parents give you the talk?
You know THE talk? About Santa not being real?
It seems easy right?
But what if I told you, Santa existed?
And what if I told you he was a young, hot and unapologetically prideful man.
Well, come on in...
"Oh the weather outside is frightful! But the fire's so delightful🎶"
Wynter rolled her hazel brown eyes as the chorus of the music swelled. She bent to pick up another ornament from the glittery box and placed it on her tall Christmas tree.
"Let it snow Let it snowww!!🎶"
The soft bellows of a vintage Sinatra song blared against her cozy living room. She ran to her phone to unlock the screen and skipped the track, tired of the overbearing winter cheer.
"Chestnuts roasting, on an open fire🎶🎶"
" Great! Like this was any better" Wynter thought to herself and sighed. She stormed over to the stairs and held her chin to observe the cheery space.
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She had tried her best to decorate her cold and empty living space thanks to the advice of her therapist.
Flashback
"Any Christmas plans?" Lorie, her therapist asked.
"Christmas? When is that?" Wynter pouted, sitting up from the laying chair.
"You cannot be serious Wynter? Christmas is 3 days away." she gasped, marking some papers from behind her desk.
"Ohh...I didn't know" she shrugged, swiping her shoes to throw them off. Wynter Rider was the most successful makeup CEO in California. Her make up line, Nubia San Fransico had reached a global impact just this year. She had the fame, the fortune, the houses, but the only thing she lacked was a social life.
"Wynter we have been over this! You must learn to build more interpersonal relationships" Lorie cautioned. She let out a lazy scoff, sneering at her inaccurate assumptions and flicked my hair back. "I will have you know, I just learned the name of my massage therapist just the other day!"
"Oh? Realy" she smiled, ingenuity filling her core, "What's her name then?" she asked, already calling the young woman out on my claim.
"..."
"That's what I thought" she sighed and took some more notes. She ripped off a piece of paper and slid it into Wynter's folder which was already as thick as two dictionaries put together.
"Homework" she announced, sliding off her glasses. Wynter rolled her eyes and groaned with disdain. Her therapist's homework never worked. It was just more opportunities for Wynter to embarrass myself.
"I want you to have a traditional Christmas. You said you never celebrated Christmas growing up? Correct?" Lorie announced, making sure to meet the young girl's gaze.
"Yes..." she muttered.
"Grab a ginger bread house kit, knit a Christmas sweater, hey! Grab a Christmas tree; you know, the all American Christmas."
"Christmas is in 3 days, do you honestly think I will do all that?"
"Yes, I know you will. As your psychologist I don't demand a lot but this is my homework for you Wynter."
