Eve

And so it came to pass that on a few days after the Winter Solstice, he came to find himself outside a doorframe in a place where he realized he was uninvited.

His hand actually paused, just a second.  He had no gifts, he had no wrappings.  He barely had any change in his pocket and most reasonably he had no idea how this was going to go.

He knocked.  Fortune's first gift to him was that she answered.  It could have been a multitude of guests or residents, but she was the one who appeared.

Later, when he was alone, he liked to think that the first thing that registered in her eyes was wonderment, disbelief.  But later still he realized that the first thing that registered was frost.  And it was not seeming to melt anytime soon.

What are you doing here? she asked, pulling the door shut, the warmth and light from the house abruptly darkening.

I fell out of the sleigh, he offered.  She didn't smile, rather she stood there, back against the door.

Allright.  Sorry.  I just started walking, and the next thing I knew I was on a plane and then I was in a car and now I'm here.  I didn't, to tell the truth, really think about it.

She moved her head back and forth, like she was saying no.  Her arms were folded tightly.

You shouldn't have come.  You should have called.

There's a lot of things I should have done.  But I didn't.  

Well how am I supposed to deal with this?  I can't bring you inside.  I can't have you here.

He stepped back, and looked up.  The house lights kept the sky from being too dark, but he was pretty sure there was a lot of heaven up there.  He looked back at her.  And saddened.

I wasn't hoping for a Christmas miracle, he started.  I just thought that perhaps, maybe I could surprise you, and at the very least that I could see you unexpectedly.  That maybe you had wished, or hoped, or flipped a coin or broken a wishbone and that the thought thumping in your skull was that I might appear.  And so I came.

She kept her head shaking back, that "no" motion.

Even if I had wished any of those things, it wasn't like I expected it to happen.  I just cannot believe you're here.

Well.  I am.

Well, you gotta go.

I know.  He started to turn, taking a step backwards.  And then he stopped.

I just wanted you to know that there is such anticipation in knowing that I might see you.  There is such child-like laying awake at night knowing that I might be near you.  There is an anxiety that the next few minutes I will be without you...and I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that that was in fact the way I felt. Knowing you...every day is like Christmas Eve.

He finished and turned down the walk.  He heard the door slam.  He looked up, could finally see the stars.  Saw one bright one and kept walking to the car.