I knew by the third time I heard “Jingle Bell Rock” that he wasn’t coming. He had done it again. With an exaggerated moan I leaned over and fell against the chilled window and watched my breath lightly fog up my view of the outside world.

It was that time of year once again. That time when everyone was supposed to be in a jolly mood. Excited children counted down the days, hours, minutes until Christmas break released them from their educational prison and allowed them two weeks to mess around, play in the snow, or (if you are anything like me) catch up on reading. Bright white Christmas lights in all their many forms dangled on every building and house as far as the eye could see, and that chilly season decorated the air and ground with freezing little snowflakes from above. Awful, repetitive Christmas songs played over the intercom and radio waves at every store and station as busy shoppers scattered like rats to spend away their paychecks on gifts for their children, friends, family, and sometimes themselves. Everyone – even the people who couldn’t cook – were baking pies, cookies, breads, turkeys, stuffing, Jell-Os, jams, and other foods galore. Basically it was that time where everyone was in a bubble of festive happiness – everyone except me.

There I was, slunk over in one of those uncomfortable metal chairs with my cheek pressed up against the window that was almost as cold as my heart. My favorite navy blue sweater overlapping a pair of dark jeans, finished off with my favorite pair of Ugg boots that were still dripping wet snow onto the tiled floor. With an obnoxious red knit hat pulled over my mess of brown curls, a book curled under one arm, and a caramel macchiato in hand, I looked like the average lonely book nerd who had three bookshelves for walls versus having a nice phone. Don’t get me wrong, the bookshelves were not the problem in the equation of my life, but the guy I had been in love with since 2nd grade who had left me stranded yet again for a study date? Bingo.

“Ma’am?” I heard from the other side of the shop. I turned to see a wiry red-bearded man waving to get my attention.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to shake myself free of my thoughts.

“Can you please not lean on the glass?” He said, almost bitterly. I guess over-playing the same Christmas jingle can piss anyone off.

I sighed and got up, throwing my backpack over my shoulders and pushing the chair in. I smiled halfheartedly at the man, and then pushed the cold door with my arm. It took less than a second for my body to register the freezing temperature outside. But after one deep exhale of the bitter cold air, I turned to face the sidewalk that led me home, and started walking.