Only if I want to keep my current existence.
Fair enough. But open your present first, okay?
Which is a weird thing to say. I guess he assumes I have some presents that I brought with me. You know, like a normal human with people who care about him might. I mean, I have Zoe, but we don’t exchange presents; we get super dressed up and take each other out for a ridiculously expensive meal.
Which we can’t even do this year because I’m in fiction exile.
God, this is depressing.
No presents here, I’m afraid.
I pour my coffee and remind myself that I lead a fucking privileged life and feeling sorry for myself is not something I do.
Uh, yeah there is.
Wait, what is he talking about?
Under the tree.
Under the—I look back over and realize he means the little box with the velvet ribbon. The one I thought might be from his ex. Only… it’s for me?
I go over and pick it up, turning it over in my hand. And yes, now that I look closer, there’s a little tag. I flip it over:
To George Knight
This is for me?
Yeah. I mean it’s not much. I just wanted to leave you a little something.
My throat feels tight. He left me a Christmas present? Even though he didn’t know me at all at that point? Even though I’m the guy booting him out of his home for the holidays.
Except of course he did. Zoe says let a stranger take over your cabin and he thinks, “I wonder what he would like for Christmas?”
Because he’s sweet and genuine and so goddamngood,of course he would do that.
Owen, that was so thoughtful of you. I feel rotten. It didn’t even occur to me to get you anything.
What? No! I just did it because I wanted to. And you’ll see. It’s nothing. Come on, go ahead and open it.
So I do. I set the phone down and carefully untie the ribbon, sliding my fingers under the tape and slipping the brown paper off what appears to be a block of wood. It is. It is a block of wood, maybe four inches on a side. With some holes drilled in one surface and… the words “Writer’s Block” burnt into the wood on another. Clearly handcrafted.
You made me a “Writer’s Block”?
Yes?
You’re supposed to put your pens in it.
I mean if you use pens. I don’t actually know if you use pens when you write. Which would make it kind of useless I guess. I’m sorry, it might not be a very good present.
It’s so dorky and sweet and goddamn adorable.He’sso dorky and sweet and… well, anyway.
It’s perfect.
Really?
I love it. Thank you. I wish I had thought to leave you something.
I run my fingertip over the dark lettering etched into the smooth wood.
