Christmas
“What the hell is that?” I ask Charles gesturing toward a six foot tall awkwardly wrapped present standing beside the Christmas tree. The wrapping paper was black with an odd assortment of bows stuck haphazardly all over it. Compared to the elegantly attired gifts arranged artfully under the tree, it was an eyesore. I place the armful of gifts that I brought over randomly under the tree. There is an obscene amount with Mia’s name on it, and I’m doubly glad that Kenna advised me to purchase the baby music system for her.
My uncle chuckles loudly and sips from his coffee mug. “It was delivered by courier yesterday. I don’t know what it is but, uh, it has your name on it.” He points at a large manilla tag which has “NICK-O-LAS” written on it in serial killer handwriting.
MacKenna
