It was still early enough that most of the children were out of their rooms, playing or watching television in a large common area at one end of the hall. When Vic stepped out of the elevators, he caught sight of a little boy in Transformers pajamas who’d just stepped out of his room. He stared at Vic in surprise, mouth open, eyes as round as saucers.
“Merry Christmas,” Vic said. He was exhausted from a long day of work and the suit he wore itched. He didn’t exactly sound jolly to his own ears—the best he hoped for was not his usual gruff self.
It must’ve worked. Like a spell, his words freed the little boy from where he stood rooted in place. “Santa!” he cried, launching himself down the hall toward Vic. Then, in mid-stride, he reversed and headed in the opposite direction, arms waving
