christmas eve

some nights are loud without speakers. #

Christmas Eve. Family, food, church, messages arriving constantly, phone calls, people I love existing in several cities at once. Dad from Genova. Tia. Hikari. Yuri. Edo sent `BUON NATALE BAMBOLINA` and then, less than a minute later, a filename.

I stared at the screen.

`Bambolina: edo it is christmas eve`
`Deathcore: christmas hardcore`

Of course.

Mom is wearing Angel. Obviously. At this point I think Christmas Eve actually smells like Angel to me because she has worn it through enough years that the memories have fused. One day I’ll smell it somewhere completely unrelated and probably be transported directly into this hallway.

I like that thought.

Merry Christmas.

Remember me, Eclipse.