She makes a face.
“Come on,” I say, trying to get a smile out of her. “Don’t we look festive?”
She rolls her eyes, but a smile sneaks on her face. “If, by festive, you mean silly, then yeah, sure. Totally festive.”
That’s better. Now for the next part…
Maybe sharing a bed won’t be so terrible. At least it’s not a twin. Not sure my heart would survive that. “Ready to make a fort?”
As we arrange pillows and blankets, a furry head pokes out from under the bed. Powerfluff eyes us suspiciously before darting out to investigate our construction on the bed.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence.” I reach out to scratch behind her ears. The cat allows my touch for approximately two seconds before swatting at my hand and retreating to a corner of the fort.
“She’s not big on change.” Abby settles into our makeshift sanctuary. “Or people. Or anything, really, except food and rubs.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” I tease, earning a playful shove from Abby.
“I’m nothing like that.”
“Name three things you like.”
Abby rubs her chin, pretending to think hard. “Coffee… My cat… And…”
“Compelling list there,” I joke. “No wonder you’re such a ray of sunshine at the office.”
“Chocolate. I like chocolate.” She sticks her tongue out at me, and I see a flash of the Abby I know from work—quick-witted and unafraid to stand up for herself. But then her face falls, and I assume she’s remembering where we are and why. “Remember what you said downstairs? Can we pretend we’re somewhere else?” she asks softly. “Anywhere but here?”
I understand her need to escape. “Absolutely. Where would you like to be?”
She rubs the back of her neck as if thinking. “How about a cozy cabin in the woods? With a roaring fireplace and hot cocoa?”
“Perfect.” I make myself comfortable for our imaginary getaway. “Let’s say there’s a foot of fresh snow outside, perfect for building snowmen tomorrow.”
Abby smiles, her eyes far away. “That sounds wonderful. We could go sledding, too.”
“And have a snowball fight. I must warn you, I have great aim.”
“Oh, you’re on,” Abby says, a competitive glint in her eye. “I’ll have you know I was the snowball champion of my block three years running when I was younger.”
We continue with describing the cabin. Abby adds a fully stocked kitchen with more chocolate than we could eat in a year, and I describe a shelf full of board games. It’s silly, but Abby’s shoulders relax a bit.
Powerfluff cautiously emerges from her corner, eventually settling on Abby’s lap. Abby strokes the cat’s fur and elicits purrs.
“What’s the story with Powerfluff?” I ask, curious. “That’s quite a name.”
Abby smiles at the cat. “I adopted her when she was a kitten. Imagine a tiny ball of fluff. I happened to be watching asuperhero movie, and I told her that she must have superpowers with all that fur. The name stuck.”
I love how her brain works. “Does she live up to the name?”
“Oh, definitely,” Abby says with mock seriousness. “She has the power of extreme indifference and the ability to knock things off tables with pinpoint accuracy.”
As if on cue, Powerfluff stretches, her paw knocking over a small stack of books we’d used to prop up part of the fort. Abby and I burst into laughter, and Powerfluff seems pleased with herself.
“See?” Abby giggles. “Superpowers.”
A comfortable silence settles over us, but I’m not ready to say good night. An idea strikes me. “Hey, since we’re in our fetching holiday attire, want to trade embarrassing Christmas stories?”
Abby smirks, propping herself up on one elbow. “You’re on. But fair warning, my stories come with baggage.”
