All I Want For Christmas

You walk through the front door and dust the snow off your shoulders. I’m leaning on the wall, waiting for you to see me, and when you do, you beam. It’s a cold night, yet your smile is warm enough for me, for us. We embrace, and, as you always have, you squeeze me tight.

All I want for Christmas is to live in this moment forever.



The moon is a sight to behold tonight. It’s not often my evening walk is so well-lit. I like it—my very own dark-day-time. Apart from the moon, however, everything else remains the same. The 6:00 pm chime of the church bell ringing throughout the streets, the echoing of bird songs, my routine nod to the fruit vendor, paired with the “no thanks” gesture I give when he inevitably asks if I want anything. I don’t know why he always asks. I never do. The day I want something will be the day he doesn’t bother.

I make my way through the small town part of my walk, a new shop called “The Druid’s Garden” has opened up and garnered my attention.



Inside, a lady with dark, wispy hair travelling down to her belt greets me.

“Welcome, my love,” she says with a kind voice. She smiles at me. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I’m just looking around,” I reply.

Gazing intently around the room it almost feels like I’m in the middle of some mild, tame jungle—minus the bugs and the apex predators of the food chain.



Another customer walks in, and I know this without looking because I hear the bell’s jingle on the entrance door’s top. By quick assumption, the lady working in the store seems the type to call everyone “my love,” and as I’m browsing what appears to be a selection of teas, my assumption is proven right.

“Evening, my love.”

I know they advise not to make assumptions, but some people you can just read like a map.

“Hi, darling!” The customer replied.

“How’d you go?” The shop lady asked.

“Nothing yet.”

“Be patient. It will happen for you,” the shop lady said. “Just as it happened for me.”

The customer smiled. “Thanks, Amber,” she said.

Amber smiled in return. “Can I help you with anything else?” She added.

“No, I’m fine. I was just passing by and saying hello.”

“Bless your soul, doll. Come say hello any time.”

“Will do! Bye for now,” the customer said. And with the jingle of the same solitary bell, she was gone.



I inspected the flowers and minerals for sale placed upon the bench, and this Amber forced her way into my eye-line.

“Let me guess… Amber?”

“Wow, how’d you know?” She said playfully.

“Magic.”

Amber smirked.

“I’ll show you magic,” she said. “Wait here.”

She blew through her curtains into the back, and silence filled the room. The wind outside was severe, small branches separated from trees projected toward the store’s front windows, something in the roof was rattling.

A minute or so of these strong gusts passed, and following the clanking of glass bottles, she returned.



“This. This right here is magic,” she said.

“Is that so?” I asked. “And how’s that?”

“Promise to keep an open mind?” Amber asked.

“Sure, just tell me what it is.”

“This small pink bottle I hold here in my hands…” her voiced faded off.

I could hear the trickling of rain beginning, the droplets sliding down the window like miniature fishes.

“Yes?” I asked impatiently.

“…is a love potion,” she continued.

“Oh, come on now,” I said. “I know you said open mind, but a love potion. Really?”

“If you don’t believe it’s a real thing, I’m sure you’d have no trouble testing it out for me,” she proposed. “I’ve been looking for someone to test this new batch anyway.”

“Go on, then. I’ll try it.”

“Great!” Amber added.

“And what, everywhere I go, people will fall in love with me or something dumb like that,” I asked uncertainly.

“Not quite,” she said, handing the bottle over.

“Once you’ve consumed this entirely, anyone you come into contact with, who you were already naturally compatible with, will fall under your spell.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.

“They’ll find you completely irresistible. You’re still sceptical, that’s fine,” she smiled. “Don’t worry, you will see.”

“I guess I will,” I said.

“Have fun,” she winked.



Much like I often do to the fruit vendor, she held her hand up in a gesture as I pulled my wallet from my pants pocket. I left ‘The Druid’s Garden’, and so ended the weirdest encounter I’ve ever had on one of my walks., maybe ever.

What was once a drizzle of rain during our discussion was now a pelting of projectile droplets, sounding more akin to bees’ swarming. Heavy—Just how I liked it.



You studied my expression. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hide it from you. My hair was covering my eye. You gently moved it aside and asked what was wrong. I shrugged. You leapt up from your seat and said it’s time for a coffee break. I try to tell you not to bother because it’s pouring outside, but the words get stuck in my throat, and your favourite leather jacket is already halfway on. You walk down to the street and arrive back with coffee, just like you said you would. You are drenched when I opened the door for you. You handed me the coffee, a dorky smile escaped you, and everything seemed like it could be okay again.

All I want for Christmas is coffee.



Once outside, I unscrewed the cap for the potion and downed it in a swift and almost intolerably sweet gulp. I waited. As expected, there were no changes.

I watched as people scurried across roads, covering the tops of their heads with newspapers and magazines, or whatever else they could produce to save themselves from the inevitable wet. 

I’d happily walk in this weather. I prefer it if anything. The rain has a way of soothing me that nothing else does. Maybe this is why people enjoy showers over baths, the feeling of everything bad washing away is therapeutic.



I know if I deviate from the usual path I walk, following the cobblestone road I’d see the Christmas lights, the effort some of these people put in to show their festive spirit is impressive to me.

Red and green tinsel slither between the gaps of a blue picket fence. A man tending to his garden sees me observing and walks over, a stiff swagger in his step. He intends to tell me off.

He changes once he’s closer as if a switch were flicked from off to on.

“My god, you’re beautiful,” he says.

“Ohh, um, thanks. I like Christmas lights and decorations. That’s why I stopped.”

“Oh, you do? I’m so glad! I did this all for you.”

“What do you mean for me?” I asked.

“The tinsel, the lights, they’re all up for you.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time. But why for me? You don’t know me.”

An eyebrow raised on the man’s face as if it were the silliest thing he’d heard all day.

“Because I love you. I thought that was clear,” he scoffed.

“You love me? How on earth could you love me?” I asked.

What was going on here?

“I don’t know, I just… do. I love you.”



The potion. Was this a prank? If so, I have to admit it’s a good one.

But I’m not that easy to pull one over on, Amber.

“Oh, okay. Aren’t you forgetting something, though?” I play along.

His eyes widen as the flick of another interior switch goes off.

“Stay here!” He yells.

He’s in and out of the house in a flash, the screen door slams on the brick exterior as he runs back over. We’re face to face again, and he drops to one knee.

“Here we go,” I say sarcastically.

“I could say a lot here, but I’m going to keep it simple. I’m in love with you, would you do the honour of marrying me?”

I try to hold in my slight chuckle, but it escapes.

“Why are you laughing? I’m professing my love here, and you’re laughing.”

“Look,” I say, “That’ll do, I’ve played along long enough. I’m going to finish my walk. Have a good night, though.”

“But,” the man says, opening up the velvet box in his hand. “What about this?”



A ring. A real ring. With a natural stone by the look of it. A ruby. How he knew rubies are my favourite, I don’t want to know. I’m chalking it up to a lucky guess.

“That’s…really nice. But I have to go,” I say.

The man bellows into the night as I leave him, the further I travel down that cobblestone road, the quieter he becomes.



That had to be a prank he and Amber were playing on me, I’m sure of it. There’s no way in hell a love potion is a real thing. Or that it was causing real effects on people.

I jogged the rest of the way. I ran into an old friend of mine on the way. I made sure our chat was brief as could be. By the time I got home, it was 7:47 pm. The rain was torrential now. I could hear it pelting down on the roof as I turned the shower on.

A perfect end to the year. It was pouring as I loved it, and I was to see my family and friends for lunch tomorrow afternoon.



I was still slightly dripping when I checked my email. I’m a fiend for clearing notifications; it’s a well-known talking point among my friends. I clicked refresh, right there at the top was the name “Tim Collins.”



”Dear Asha,

What a blast it was running into you a couple of minutes ago!

Seeing you and your cute little smile has perked me right up, even in this awful weather.

I genuinely apologise for saying what I’m about to via email of all things; I don’t have your number, and I’m afraid it’ll be years before I see you again like it was last time.



Anyway, here we go:

I love you. I’ve always loved you if I’m honest. When we met ten years ago, something went off inside me. I’ve not had that connection with anyone ever since.

It’s weird. It’s almost like I knew I’d felt this way the entire time, but it didn’t strike me as a revelation until I saw you just now.

I know this is strange to ask a girl of your quality over email, but will you marry me? I don’t see myself being in love with anyone the way that I am with you. There’s just no spark with anyone else. I need to be with you forever.



I anxiously await your reply.



T. Collins”





Okay, this has to be a joke by now.

Maybe Amber knows Tim. Perhaps he’s part of the trick too. Perhaps together, they conspired to prank me. Maybe-

*Buzz buzz* the vibration of my phone on my bedside table. My friend Helen is ringing. I pick up.

“You better not be proposing to me,” I say.

“Huh? Why the fuck would I be doing that?”

“Never mind.”

“I called to see if you wanted to go to the pub. I know you like this weather, and no one else seems to, so it’ll be quiet there.”

“Sounds good to me,” I reply.

“Proposing,” she scoffs, “someone thinks highly of themselves.”

“Trust me. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

“Tell me all about it when we’re there. Meet me at Cobalt’s in like 10?”

“Ok, see you then.”



I know better than to assume ten minutes is ten minutes with Helen. 

I wait until the clock hits 8:15 pm before I leave. The rain has come to rest by now, which is tragic but allows me to walk to the pub at a casual pace. The smell still lingers, right now that’ll have to do. 



I stare at you from across the bar, in a moment our eyes finally lock. I feel like I’m the girl in the cliche beginning of every rom-com. Every waking instinct inside of me begs me to look away, but I don’t dare break eye contact first. Whatever my friend is saying into my ear flows directly out the other. She will have to wait because my attention is elsewhere.

Hours later, we’d have our first conversation, and even later I’d have my first taste of you.

All I want for Christmas is to taste you again.



The condensation from my drink has created a small puddle on the table before Helen arrives. The DJ has started playing music, and a crowd has begun to gather. I’ve been sitting by myself for long enough that I’d almost welcome another strange proposal. But I kill that thought immediately.

Helen finally arrives in a whirlwind of colour and style. Alcohol springs off her breath.

“Hi hi,” she says, sitting down beside me. Our seat faces the bar and the dancefloor, our backs toward the kitchen.

“Took your time,” I say.

“Yeah, yeah.”



Before I speak again, a glass shatters on the ground. Laughs follow, as do the over-used lines that rowdy drunks and bland personalities love to use.

A man exits his chair and walks over to another; he has sway in his step. He gets in the other man’s face. The music is too loud to hear their conversation, but the body language is a dead give away. A fight breaks out, and security rush over to cease it.



You are soft and gentle.

You’re a lover, not a fighter.

I still always felt safe with you, though. Like I was yours to protect.

All I want for Christmas is your protection.



You laugh and sigh.

“Men,” you add. There’s a distaste in your voice, and it’s hard to disagree with.

“Drink?” You ask. And I approve.



Cobalt’s is busy for a Sunday, especially a rainy one. Two men stumble over to me while you’re still in line. The music is blaring. Some Lana Del Rey remix I don’t know the name of.

The man wearing a maroon jacket introduces himself first. He says his name is John, and that I’m the prettiest girl in this place.

“Oh, thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

He smiles, and the other man frowns.

“I’m Hector,” he states. He was still frowning.

“Hi, Hector,” I reply.

“What’s an angel like you doin’ drinkin’ here all alone?” Hector asks.

“Oh, well, I’m not alone actually!”

“You look alone to me,” John puts in. Hector nods in agreement. I sigh.



You return from the bar with a tray of drinks.

“Does she look alone now?” You say. You’ve always been there for me.

They pay no attention. They don’t even look in your direction.

“Listen,” John says, “I know this may sound… forward, but,”

Oh no.

“I want you to be my wife. Will you?”



…



You laugh. “What!? That’s not how you propose to a woman, what’s wrong with you?”

“Yeah!” Hector agrees, “this is how you do it!”

Hector drops to one knee. “So that you know I’m serious about this too…” he says.

“My darling, my love, without you, I am nothing. I love you and want you to be in my life forever. Will you marry m-”

“Oh my god, what is even happening here?” You ask.

“Now do you get what I said over the phone? It has to be some weird kind prank. He’s the fourth person to do this today.”

“Oh, weird,” you reply. And if it weren’t for the ear-splitting pop remixes, you could have heard a tumbleweed pass by.

“She’s not interested,” you add. “Scram, get outta here.”

They both leave like they were disciplined puppies, scolded for peeing on the rug.



I audibly sigh when I set the last empty glass down.

“You’re slumped over. And you’re sighing a lot tonight.”

I’ve always been annoyed by your pesky perception.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” You ask. I don’t respond.

“I know you are. I can see it on your face,” you add.

“I’m gonna go,” I say. “Not feelin’ it tonight.”

“Gimme a hug first.”

“Sorry, I just— you know. I’m still not over it.”

“I don’t expect you to be. These things take time.”



You break off and sit back down, I inhale deeply and walk home.

When I get into bed the rain starts to pour again, I can hear it right outside my window. The crashing of the water paired with the alcohol in my system together throws me deep into the dream world.



I woke up with your name on my lips; the dream world was cruel to me this time around.

We were together again. The joy I once had for life had returned. We were at your favourite location—our little secret. The wind was slight, the rain was sprinkling, and the tide was slowly coming in. We were alone, and you got on one knee. I’ve never felt such a profound, sense of happiness. I was overwhelmed. Officially, I was yours, and you were mine.

Then the universe decided you were not for this world. Not meant for our world. A misplaced step and the ocean took you for its own. I never got to say “I do.”

All I want for Christmas is my “I do.”