"Excellent choice," the clerk smiled. "We’ll have the 'Tree-in-a-Tote' delivery team at your door by five."
Elias sat on his couch with a lukewarm pizza, staring at the glowing masterpiece. It was, objectively, the most beautiful tree he’d ever owned. There were no lopsided branches, no needles on the floor, and no memories of crying over a broken heirloom ornament.
But as the night went on, the silence of the room felt a little too crisp. He looked at the frosted glass spheres. They were flawless, but they didn't tell him where he’d been. They didn't remind him of the year he went to Mexico, or the handmade clay star his nephew had made in third grade.
"I just want the Christmas," he muttered to his reflection in a storefront window, "without the 'some assembly required.'"
He ended up at The Gilded Pine , a boutique that smelled aggressively of cinnamon and expensive dreams. The shop was a forest of perfection. There were trees themed like "Midnight in Paris" with navy ribbons and silver moons, and others that looked like "Victorian Hearthside," dripping in velvet and gold.