We never seem to run into each other. Yet, during the night, the stockings get fuller and fuller. There are always the normal things—an orange, nuts... a chocolate bar, and pack of gum. Then there are the comic gifts like an egg of Silly Putty or an interlinking puzzle made out of two bent nails. Then there are sometimes precious items. The year after Grandpa Ames died, I got a tiny framed picture in my stocking. It was of Grandpa holding me as a baby in front of the old Oliver tractor. It had. I went out, he was still there. “Jeez, what were you doing?” “Sorry, couldn’t find my mascara.” I told him. He examined me. “Why do you wear makeup? You look better without it.” My heart jumped a little bit. “You think so?” He got closer to me. Closer than any guy had ever gotten before. I shut my eyes. “I know so.” He kissed me softly. Or at least, it started that way. He pushed us into the bathroom. It was single person, so he locked it. “Take off the makeup. Except that gloss. I like. More

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