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When Christine’s mind finally returned to that hated
Christmas Eve, and the visions of that drunken bastard
that took the only real joy in her life, she wept
silently to her self for a while. When she regained her
composure Christine bundled herself up against the
winter cold, locked the office and as usual on a
Christmas Eve took the elevator alone to the lobby of
an empty office tower, always the first to arrive at
six and last to leave at six.
“Merry Christmas and have a wonderful weekend,” the
doorman said as she exited into the cold New England
air.
“Uh, yeah you too,” Christine grumbled back. Actually
not really meaning it, as she mumbled in her mind,
“Yeah dick-head, fuck you and Christmas too.”
Christine pulled her scarf and collar tight against her
as she stepped out into the new Christmas Snow that
immediately began to whip into her face as it spiraled
back and forth across the narrow Boston street. The
sound was almost deafening as the cold winds hurdled
north to south creating a virtual wind tunnel between
the high-rises.
As the cold wind howled it sent punishing blasts of
frozen snow slamming into her face as she tried to walk
against it. Putting her head down and redoubling her
effort, she thrust her body forward toward the parking
garage and the waiting comfort of her Mercedes Sedan.
