The MOST Depressing Time of the Year

As soon as the automatic doors open, I come face to face with a life size plastic Santa. I see him even before I see the CVS clerk, who greets me to let me know she is there, in case I was thinking of shoplifting. At least, that is why I assume they greet people as they walk in. Santa gives me a frozen look of judgment, his resting bitch face matching mine. I sigh and move past Santa and his faux fireplace and begin heading towards the pharmacy, which is my reason for shopping today. I’m here to...