The Christmases Bennett had spent alone far outnumbered those when a significant other slept in her bed. She could remember when candles and gingerbread decorated trees, and when tinsel was invented, how people oohed and aahed at its spangling effect on the boughs of pine. She could recall the ingenuity of one man, his idea for a greeting card at the holiday eventually turning into a multi-million dollar business, and how strands of lights for trees went from gargantuan to tiny LEDs that could flicker to music or hold steady, your choice. Bennett had read firsthand a poem published in 1823, its author a professor who merely wanted to give a gift to his six children. It spoke of a jolly man in red who delivered gifts on the eve of Christmas, and while Clement Clarke Moore didn’t know his poem A Visit from St. Nicholas would become a holiday tradition, it did…just under another name.

Bennett had spent Christmases in homes warm and smelling of feasts, in rooms where trees filled corners and presents were piled high under their branches. She’d listened to choirs sing and to symphonies play, and lovingly bestowed gifts to those she’d held dear, although that list constantly changed. People died, people moved on, and some people had changed into strangers in front of her eyes.

Bennett drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly before taking another sip of her wine. Except for the hushed tones of Bach, her apartment was still, and she liked it. This was familiar to her, comfortable…safe. There’d be no intrusion tonight or for many nights to come, and for a moment, Bennett debated on whether to take a slumber. Like bats and bears, she could shut herself down, go to sleep knowing her body clock would wake her, yet no sooner had the thought entered Bennett’s mind when Xi hopped onto her lap.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just read my mind,” Bennett said, scratching Xi’s head. “Besides, you won’t let me sleep for longer than a night before you wake me up, so what’s the point?”

Xi purred in reply, angling his head so Bennett could reach a few more spots.

“You’re a demanding little bugger, I’ll give you that,” Bennett said, continuing the feline’s massage.