Dirty Christmas
The tree she'd half-decorated twinkled in the corner, ornaments from childhood dangling like memories.
“To absent friends," Max toasted, clinking his mug against hers. His knee brushed hers on the rug, and neither moved away.
"To not being alone," she replied softly, sipping the burn. The alcohol warmed her from the inside, loosening the knot in her chest. "It's weird, you know? Holidays without everyone. Feels like I'm missing the point."