Christmas Stalking
T WAS Saturday afternoon. Greg I just wanted to sit in front of the
TV and eat his lunch in peace but his wife, Lorna, wouldn’t stop talking about Christmas shopping.
“I‘ve just got my mom and your mom left to buy gifts for,” she said happily. “Everyone else is done.”
“Christmas is weeks away,” said Greg dismissively.
“It’s next week,” she told him.
Next week? How could that be?
Guilt sparked inside him as he pictured Lorna’s face when she’d opened the gift he’d bought her last year.
He recalled the flicker of disappointment before she pasted on a too-bright smile and gushed her thanks over
