Across the snowy square, I gaze at Fable for a long beat, picturing something beyond Christmas. Maybe in some other world, I would make pancakes with her in the morning and we’d say goodnight to my daughter together in the evening. We’d venture up here for the holidays. I’d come to the opening of her first jewelry shop, and she’d cheer for her favorite team from a suite. And we’d curl up on the couch together next Christmas Eve, turn on some music, and look at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Before I fucked her under it.
