Crumpled paper, smeared plates, persistent babel of television. A wistful look at an unopened book.
Pause. There, under the tree, amongst scents of pine and cloves. Something shimmering with liminal light; discarded, or perhaps, forgotten.
Take it; feel its edges, solid and smooth. Sit down, pull air into your lungs, listen to the second hand of your watch.
Unseal the thing. Let its contents flow over you. Hear the voices flow to silence, feel the tick between seconds stretch. An hour of time, cherished and stored. Wrapped and given.
Open the book, sip something warming, and savour the unexpected gift.
A little festive drabble. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!