Not in the mood for happiness right now, though I should be. Not in the mood for smiling and shopping and making you happy. Can't say I want to see you smile either. I'll stay here and look and type and pretend to read while I watch them mill and ignore and tidy their souls for the season. There's simply too much onrush as of yet to rekindle the warmth of giving. So I'll sit: selfish, silent, a little sad for my lack of shinyness. Maybe tomorrow when these bridges meet, if they do, I'll remember. Now, it's warmer to forget.