At three o’clock on Christmas morning, I’m still wide awake. Usually Chris texts me or sends some kind of message once a day to let me know how he’s doing, where he is, and so on. Aside from that early morning call yesterday, I haven’t heard from him. Is he okay, I wonder?
Sighing, I rise off the couch where I’ve been lounging in front of B-movie central and take a quick shower. Dressed in one of Chris’s T-shirts and boxers, I head to bed, laptop nearby just in case he tries to contact me.
Something wakes me a little while later. I sit up in bed and realize there’s someone in the apartment. I haven’t been robbed in all the years I’ve lived here, but if some miscreant thinks he’s gonna ruin my Christmas, he’s got another thing coming.
I get up from bed and grab the softball bat I keep ha
