I went home for Christmas expecting small talk and cheap hot chocolate. Little did I know that a stranger’s kid pointing at me would blow my past wide open.
I’m 32, single, and went back to my hometown for the holidays for the first time in over five years.
I was at one of those picture-perfect Christmas markets downtown. Lights strung everywhere. Wooden stalls. Kids running around with sticky faces. The air smelled like cinnamon, sugar, and cold.
I was walking around with a paper cup of hot chocolate, trying to feel nostalgic and not nauseous, when I heard a little gasp.