Memories and Mistletoe
When Scott comes downstairs on Christmas morning, his gaze lands on the mistletoe in the entryway and he stops dead.
At the look on his face, Melissa suddenly remembers his friend in the hospital, vomiting mistletoe. Remembers the story he’d shared about mistletoe, and what little else he’d told her about that night – the night she’d been taken.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.” She’s under it in moments, reaching to take it down.
Just as quickly, Scott’s arms are around her. “Love you, Mom,” he says.
“Love you too, kiddo.” She lowers her outstretched arm to hug him back. “Merry Christmas.”