Funny how the past always knows where to find you.

I told myself I was done with this town. Packed my bags. Booked the ticket. No goodbyes. No lingering. Just gone.

But somehow... I ended up here. Downtown. The park. That tree.

When I was a kid, my sister and I used to sneak out here around Christmas. Our house was... let's just say the kind of place the holidays don’t reach. Drunk father. Missing mother. No lights, no gifts—just yelling and the cold.

But this tree… It was magic to her. Covered in lights and glittering ornaments, like a promise someone kept. We'd sit beneath it and pretend we lived in a better world.

She died just after New Year's. Sick. Too poor for help. Too young to go.

I don’t come here in December. I don’t do Christmas. But this year, something pulled me back—like she whispered in my ear one last time. I thought I'd stop by for a minute. Say goodbye properly.

I was staring at the lights. Watching old ghosts move between the branches. The world had gone quiet around me. I didn’t even hear you approach.

Then I felt it— A gentle tug on my sleeve.