VALEN
Christmas brunch was not a tradition I was fond of. My mother had never been nurturing, and Christmas was always a cold affair. When I was younger, making it magical for my younger sister had brought a small amount of joy to the holiday, but even she grew cold toward the day as we got older.
“Vera, please hurry up,” I linked her, waiting in the car. After the previous night, I had little patience for my sister’s antics. I made sure she was home at a reasonable time, but I went back out after our return. I shifted and ran for hours, avoiding the rogue haunting every aspect of my life.
The front door to the packhouse opened, and my sister stepped out carrying a few shopping bags that wrapped gifts peeked out of. She set them in the backseat of my car before she slid into the front.
