We got a little tree this year and draped it in our weird. A lobster angel, threaded cheeto garlands, curls of copper wire, it's our homage to the season. We both have families, but chose alone together instead, with love that isn't wrapping paper thin.

We huddle in our blanket, staring at the radiant heat with a background loop of campfire crackle song for cheer. Our snug begins to strengthen, fueled by the splurge of brandy nog. My fingers find snow clad mountain tops and yours the forested lane.

I hear a vibrator's soft buzz. Someone raided their stocking early.