I’m not complaining about my extra gift under the tree this year. If only I could track down the sweet talker responsible for stuffing my stocking. Not that I can fault his lack of presence. We’d agreed to a simple exchange. No last names. Just one night of mutual jingle and cheer. After our jollies were sated, we let the night become a ghost of Christmas past. It was the perfect hookup… Until I found myself left with a yuletide glow to carry alone. It’s a fact I’ve come to accept like the winter snow. Then our eyes meet across the crowded terminal. And this time, he wants the whole package.