Make My Wish Come True

As the mayor talks about how important this tradition is to our small town, Ardeas hands unlock to curl into tile fabrie of My shirt, and it becomes impossible to listen, lustead, I squeeze My eyes sliut and let Myself be this cióse to her, her chest rising and falling against my cheek, everything else fading away. It feels almost too good to be true. “What did you miss most about Barnwich Christmases?” I whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. “Not feeling so alone,” she whispers back, her breath catching. “Everything”