Two days before Christmas, I resolve that, whether or not Chris can make it home on time, he’ll still turn up, and I can at least get a tree and make some effort at holiday cheer. Maybe it will make me feel better.
Of course, finding a tree this close to Christmas is ludicrous, but there are a few empty parking lots around town where vendors set up every year for about a month. I rent a truck and spend two hours in search of the perfect specimen. They’re picked over, but I finally find a great-smelling one that won’t overwhelm my apartment or dwarf my ride.
When I get home, I drag the tree inside and set it up in the corner next to the couch. It would be our first tree as a couple. The year before, Chris had taken me to London to meet and spend time with his family.
I have some ornament
