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Somewhere in between Christmas chaos, rows and rows of chocolate santas (and penguins, and ice bears, and reindeers …), a young man was looking at a greeting card display rack.
He was browsing the Happy Holidays! section, a thick, woollen scarf wrapped around his neck and a few melting snowflakes caught in his ashy hair. His eyes were chocolate and firewood, his cheeks flushed from the change of temperature when he’d stepped into the store about fifteen minutes ago. Just when he turned the display rack again – the grey cat with a Christmas hat and weirdly edited eyes was staring at him for the third time now –, he felt someone step closer on the other side of it.
With a sigh, he retreated his hands back into his coat pockets and buried his chin in his scarf. It was always the same. He couldn’t decide. He didn’t even want to decide because the options weren’t convincing him at all. Bright red cartoon font, animals in Christmas hats, or simply some boring, old-fashioned quotation that came with the urge to roll your eyes at its cheesiness – not the good kind of cheesiness, though.
“Sorry, did I interrupt you?” Someone asked and a blonde head of hair appeared across from him, peeking around the Christmas card display rack. He was smiling – both an apology and an invite, it seemed. And it confused him (on the other side, melted snow caught in his eyelashes) so thoroughly that, for a second, he was at a loss for words.
“Uhm, no”, he finally answered, offering his own smile (rather awkward). “I was finished.” He turned on his heels, ready to leave the cards behind.
The stranger, however, wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. “You’re not buying any?”
He frowned – mostly at the bluntness of that question, partly at the low sound of the stranger’s voice. It reminded him of everything that made winter warm.
“No.” He turned around – hesitant – and chuckled nervously. “The selection is …”
The winter-smile widened. There were freckles spread all over his cheeks and nose, caramel snowflakes. “Hideous, you mean? I love them.”
His lips twitched in anticipation. He was so immersed in this moment, and the absurdity of it made his heart beat a little faster. “You’re a fan of distorted animals in badly edited Christmas hats?”
“Yeah!” The stranger exclaimed, as if the question was redundant. He’d gone back to browsing the cards and presented one with a (stock photo) chick, which was edited with a comic speech bubble. Merry Chickmas! It said.
He (with his scarf) brought his hand up to the rim of his nose and sighed melodramatically. “That one hurt.”
It made the blonde stranger laugh out loud. “Exactly. I’ll take it.”
He eyed the ugly Christmas card lover with a mixture of fascination and amusement. “You’re an easy one then”, he concluded, “for giving gifts to, I mean.”
The stranger shrugged, still grinning at the ridiculous card. “You should buy it.” He lifted his gaze and offered it with a slender hand (a silver ring on his thumb, another one on his middle finger). “And if they don’t like it, you can make it out to Felix.”
Felix.
He couldn’t help but look at Felix for a moment of shameless awe. There was something about his smile, about his eyes (hot cocoa and gingerbread), about his freckles and the chaos in which they were scattered all over his face. Or it was a combination of all three and how they melted into his low voice – a crackle from a (non-existent) fireplace.
Embracing all absurdity of this silly encounter, he reached for the card and cleared his throat. “You just made a sale.” He glanced at the ugly chick and its ridiculous speech bubble, and couldn’t help but smirk (or at least, reveal a hint of it).
“See!” Felix chuckled. He was still holding on to the card – a Christmas moment, not over yet. “It’s funny.”
“If I buy this one for you, you have to choose one for me, too”, he said behind his scarf and immediately noticed how bold that sounded.
Felix, however, nodded knowingly. “Already ahead of you.” He rummaged through the stack (yes, stack) of Christmas cards he’d already dropped in his shopping basket. When he’d found the one he was looking for, he grinned brightly and revealed it to his fellow Christmas card conspirer. “That would be to …?”
“Chan”, he answered plainly while observing the cartoon wolf on Felix’s suggestion. It stirred something in his chest – it was so silly, so absurd! – and then he simply smiled. Brightly, honestly, Christmasy even. “Why the wolf?”
Felix pursed his lips – half joking, half curious – and gazed at Chan with a straightforward I can figure you out, you know, if you give me enough time. Finally, he shrugged. “It was just an intuition.” His eyes, however, told a different story. “First impressions are deceiving, aren’t they?”
No, Chan wanted to answer immediately. Not for you. But that did strike him as one of the cheesiest things he’d ever thought about someone, so he just chuckled once more. “Maybe.”
Felix threw a handful more cards in his basket and walked around the display rack to offer Chan a wave of goodbye. “It was very nice … conversing with you.” He grinned. “And converting you.”
Chan was staring at the Christmas card in his hands, then back up at the stranger and his wintry appearance – with the contradictory warm eyes and freckles that, now, reminded him more of melted stars. “I’ll never be able to look at a chick normally again.”
Felix laughed. “Or you can think of me!” It did sound harmless. It sounded honest, too. “See you around.” He left the aisle and shot a last look over his shoulder before he stepped out of sight. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas”, Chan mumbled and scoffed, turning the Christmas card in his hands over and over.
Felix, he mused. Then his thoughts stumbled; they replayed that particular expression on the blonde stranger’s face, his smile, the sound of his voice.
When Chan got to the checkout a few minutes later, brows furrowed, heart heavy and feelings tangled, the cashier smiled at him, returned his change, and handed him another Christmas card.
When Chan didn’t accept it, he said, “Someone already paid for this. They told me to give it to the person who would buy the Chickmas card.” He gestured at Chan and grimaced. “The one with the oversized, checked scarf.”
First, Chan’s frown deepened. Then, it completely vanished from his face. He scoffed at the word Chickmas. And when he took the card, he scoffed a second time because it was the same card that Felix had showed him a few minutes ago. The cartoon wolf.
He thanked the cashier for the odd present and stepped away from the checkout. When he attempted to pack both cards in his bag, he noticed that the wolf card was already unwrapped. He flipped it open and spotted a few lines of hurriedly scribbled handwriting. He read it four times before he looked up, through the snow-covered windows of the small corner shop.
To: The lone wolf roaming through gift shops three days before Christmas. (My guess: He’s not lonely at all, just oblivious to the true spirit of Christmas: ugly greeting cards)
From: Felix (who wishes him a very merry Chickmas!)
A Christmas song was playing faintly all around Chan. He couldn’t help but frown again. Then smile. Then chuckle in his scarf about the absurdity of it all.
Just when he’d closed the card again – the warm smile mirrored in his chocolate and firewood eyes –, he saw that there was something else written on the back. A number. A phone number. A sketch was drawn beside it; it looked like a bird (or a chick) with a Christmas hat; it was winking at him, too. Beneath it, Felix had written another scribbly line: You can give me my card in person if you want!
Busy shoppers passed Chan on the street when he stepped outside, but there was no sign of a blonde stranger with a winter smile. His boots drowned in the muddy remains of yesterday’s snow. Wind was blowing cold in his ears. However, when Chan crossed the street to get to the bus stop, he wasn’t cold. He thought about caramel stars, about melted snowflakes on reddened cheeks, about greeting cards and how incredibly cheesy they were.
He thought about strangers and the holiday spirit.
He thought about Christmas coincidences.