I Was Uninvited From Christmas by the Man Living in My House

I let them.

Patricia stood near the tree with her coat still on.

“This is very nice,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if she meant the apartment or the sentence she’d practiced.

“Thanks.”

Michael cleared his throat.

“We didn’t come to fight.”

“Good.”

Patricia looked at the tree, then at me.

“I was wrong about some things.”

From her, that was probably a blood continue reading …