7/11 is not a festive place, but it's open, and god, are we hungry. You pay using his 20 dollars. "See, we're spending his money. It's revenge." It's not very good revenge; he tries his hardest to rid himself of all his cash, spending it on anything but my future.

I ran out of my house because he's too much. You did the same earlier today. It made me laugh that you came here to get away from an angry family. Here is never the right place. I'm sorry you have to deal with me now, too. My too much's are less than yours. I give up sooner and deal with less. You deal with me. At least this time I gave up by making a statement. Anyway, I'm happier now and if being happy here with you means giving up with them, then I will do it.

Walking then was cold and gradually the light vanished and the street lamps flickered on, even though it was still early. We both like this season best. I've always felt so attached to winter I forget I'm a summer baby. Our walking wasn't meant to bring us here (it's a dismal place). Instead we were just walking toward food, but everywhere else is shut today because people want to celebrate with their families. Any place open today is automatically deemed unfestive. Anyone out there is, too. My spirit may not be festive now, but it is infinitely more cheerful here with you, your scarf wrapped around my face while we wait outside 7/11 on this holly jolly night. 

Of course it's not holly or jolly. It's just any other night, but we're told this one means something. I don't even understand what it's supposed to mean. Really, Christmas has always been about presents more than anything else. Tonight is better than any Christmas because it could be any other night in winter on this street corner with an absence of Christmas spirit. We don't need that stuff.