The streets were dim, the sun having not yet risen. The apartment was as darkened as well, save for one small, rotating Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Not graced with presents nor colorful lights. No star nor ornaments, nor garland, nor beads.

The fireplace had no stockings, and no fire lit. The stereo’s speakers stood at a stand still.

Christmas will come, and go. Not a phone will ring, nor will a doorbell sound. Not a present delivered, nor a card received.

The tree was the only light in the room.
The tree was the only light keeping him alive.