—*ALISON*— A jolt of disbelief pins me to the spot as I stare at Santa. It’s really him. But… what’s he doing here? I rub my eyes, half-expecting the sight to vanish—but it doesn’t. He’s still there. My heart leaps as the sleigh glides through the air, weaving effortlessly between the buildings, bells jingling with every turn. Then it shifts—toward me, toward my window. Wait. What? It’s coming straight at me. I scramble back on my bed, stopping when my back hits the wall. The sleigh pulls up right outside my window, and Santa, a big brown sack slung over his shoulder, jumps off. He lands on the windowsill, wobbles, rolls into the room, and crashes into my stool. The stool tips over, and he hits the floor with a thud, the sack bouncing beside him. He laughs, loud and hearty. “Great landing there!” I stare at him, frozen. He looks exactly like the Santas people dress up as—huge, round stomach, white beard and mustache, red-and-white suit, Christmas cap perched on his hea
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