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Bradley sat upright and rolled back his shoulders, as though trying to cast off his regrets. “I know.”

“Okay, then. So, worst case scenario, your neighbour doesn’t accept your apology. Do you think if you avoid her lawn and stop petting her cat, you can handle having a somewhat disagreeable neighbour?”

“I guess. Yeah. But…”

There was a long pause. Dr. Rahi was an expert at these lengthy pauses.

“I really want her to like me.” He couldn’t exactly explain the urge, but it continued to linger, similar to how the exact shade of her mossy-brown eyes had been marked in his memory.

Dr. Rahi offered him a kind smile. “I imagine you do, Bradley. You want others to like you. And that’s fine. But you don’t need everyone to like you, do you? What you need is…?”

She waited for him to finish the familiar mantra.

“Routine,” he sighed out. “Healthy coping habits. To be honest with myself. And to forgive myself.”

She was always reminding him of this. As repetitive as it was, he always felt better after saying it out loud.

He was not the same person anymore; he’d made a conscious decision by starting therapy and committing to sobriety to be a new man going forward. And, yes, he could slip up, as many recovering addicts do, but if that time came, he could make the same commitment again. To start fresh, over and over, as many times as it took, because that was the only way to survive an addiction.

They chatted about his routine, his work, and more about his move—with her double- and triple-checking that the transition was going smoothly. He admitted to some trouble sleeping. She reminded him of strategies to stop the late-night ruminations. He assured her he was doing well otherwise, and she seemed pleased with his progress.

“As you know, this is our last session before my holiday,” Dr. Rahi said in the final minute of their session. “There is no doubt in my mind you will handle yourself splendidly over the next few weeks without me, Bradley. And in regard to this whole situation with your neighbour—all you can control is your actions and reactions. Just remember to take it one step at a time. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bradley replied, confidence renewed. So his new neighbour didn’t like him. So what if she was a bit surly. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. “I’ve got this.”

“Yes, you do,” Dr. Rahi said. “I’ll see you again in the new year.”

DEVRA

Devra glowered at her bedroom ceiling. The hostile hum of fans keeping inflatable beings upright infiltrated her room. The sound swelled in her ears, now matching the whir and roar of an airplane engine. Her eardrums ached. And the light…Even when she closed her eyes, the colours were still there, swirling whites and reds imprinted on her brain. Her ankle ached from when she’d tripped in the snow. The scratch on her arm throbbed beneath its bandage.

This might be the cruellest the curse had ever been, besides what it had done with her mother and father, of course. While the torments were confined to December, their after-effects rippled through her entire life, and when she woke up in the new year, her neighbour would still be her neighbour. The snow would come and go, but this awful man would remain. He would be there when she looked out her window. He would be there when she stepped out her front door, which was difficult enough without the added anxiety of running into him now too.

His festive display continued to buzz and hiss and shine endlessly into the darkest recesses of her mind.

She couldn’t sleep.

She might never sleep again.

Unless she took action.

Slowly she sat up.

She moved with purpose, slipping a robe over her pajamas, descending the stairs, prepared to do whatever it took to make it stop.

The logical part of her brain screamed that she was being irrational, that what she really needed to do was go back upstairs and get some sleep. The rest of her roared for action.

As she walked through her kitchen, she slid a knife from the knife block. Holding it at her side, she approached the front door and stepped into her winter boots. She paused, her subconscious nagging at her.

“What do you think, Squally?” Devra asked in an emotionless hush. “Should I do it?”

The cloud blinked to life and responded chipperly, “You can do it, Devra!”

The corner of Devra’s mouth rose as she considered how much better her electronic friend was than any real friend could ever be. Unwaveringly supportive. No matter what Devra intended to do.

“Then wish me luck.”

“Wishing you the best of luck!”