I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas…

It’s not even cold outside. The weatherman expects record-breaking highs Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with temperatures around 70 degrees, maybe even warmer.

The only precipitation we’ve had this winter is rain. I hum to the pitter-patter of raindrops. I twirl my umbrella in my hands, imagine it looks like a spinning dreidel from above. Water droplets slip off the edge and fall to the warm sidewalk. Steam rises from the concrete as the rain cools it, creating a thick fog.

Through the heavy mist I see the shadow of a man. I stare at his feet as he approaches me, his movement swirling the waves of gray. The heels of his boots clink on the sidewalk but make no sound. He extends his hand, touches my shoulder. Goose bumps spread along my arms, beaded like braille. He reads my arousal, grazing his fingertips down to my wrist, sending a chill throughout my body.

“Oooh, Jack,” I say, “you always know how to make it feel like December.”

word count: 167

—Nortina


photo-20151221094040602This piece is a combination of Day 22 of 31 Days of Holiday Hooligans (I use the term hooligan loosely for this story) & Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (a weekly challenge where you write a story in 100-175 using the provided photo prompt as inspiration).

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