One Last Christmas || S.R.

You loved Christmas. You’d drag him to tree farms and markets, laughing at his protests about crowds and cold. You’d spend hours hanging lights, humming as you teased him for being too meticulous. You were light and warmth, and Spencer had been yours. Then you passed away. It’s been years now, and Spencer has learned to live with the emptiness you left behind. He tried to honor you in little ways: putting up the tree, unboxing the ornaments you loved, whispering “Merry Christmas” to the silence