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A Christmas: A Short Story

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The joy of Christmas is a wonderful thing. It makes you go insane with happiness. You see, things happen during the holidays. And when you look back and remember the things you did, you become giddy and embarrassed. One such thing happened to me, when I was twenty-three. I was roaming the streets, looking for shops that might hold gifts that my family would like. As I walked, I had my head buried in the shop windows, so I wasn’t looking where I was going. I walked right into someone, causing them to spill the contents in their arms. I turned, “I’m so sorry,” I apologized, “Here let me help you.” I scampered around the sidewalk, collecting the man’s things. As I handed him his things, our eyes met and we shared a moment of specialness. I quickly looked away and glanced towards the sky. To my surprise, mistletoe hung on a thin line dangling in the air. I blushed as the man spotted what I was looking at. “I’m Thomas,” he stuck out his hand to shake, “I feel we must have a proper introduction before we, you know, go about the tradition.” I shook his hand and introduced myself, “I’m Victoria.” We stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments, waiting for the other person to make the first move. Finally, I turned, “Farewell, Thomas. I’ll see you around,” I called over my shoulder as I walked away. Our fates must have been intertwined, or he was following me, because it wasn’t but three days later, on the same street, that we ran into each other

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