The usual. [ she slides calmly into a prattling, banal tone. like on the path that long-off night, she won't press don for details he doesn't want to give.

instead, she'll happily provide distracting discussion: ] Chestnuts. Pressies. Sucking candy canes down to a sharp point and accidentally cutting my tongue on them. Jack and I got a tree...for the house.

Are you doing the Secret Santa, this year?