Thursday, 19 June 2025

'Home for Christmas' by Allison Renner

The wall of heat smacked me as soon as I left baggage claim to hail a cab. By the time I wrestled my suitcase into the trunk, the humidity had curled my hair. I gave the hostel address and leaned back into the cracked pleather, trying to relax. Trying to pretend I knew what to expect, bunking with a room full of tourists likely half my age.

I’d never been this far from home. And I’d never gone anywhere alone. But I knew it was time. I couldn’t take any more questions: “When will you…?” “Why don’t you…?” or the ever-so-helpful “Have you tried…?”

Because they were there, gathered around the Christmas ham while snow turned the dead grass white. Maybe my empty chair would be answer enough.

No comments:

Post a Comment