Deck The Halls With Brand New Stories: Ho Ho Holiday Anthology

Missed Connections

This story was contributed by ClarissaNorth

The Christmas tree towered over me, all glittering white lights, silver and blue baubles, and miles of tinsel strangling the branches like a festive constrictor. The angel perched on high with needles up her skirt and a vapid expression watched the desolate airport terminal, and I had to wonder if her smile was at my expense as I languished in an uncomfortable plastic chair, my feet up on my suitcase, and my floppy sun hat abandoned at my side.

Travelling in winter was always a risk, but the most trouble I'd had in the past were screaming kids and the odd delay. Never had I found myself stranded and alone the night before Christmas Eve, all alone with no company save a cluster of ugly plastic decorations and a mechanised train which circled the tree's base on a loop. A festive medley of poor-quality covers of Christmas classics crackled through the speaker systems and echoed eerily in the vast space. I closed my eyes and groaned softly. This was exactly what I'd been trying to escape, and here I was surrounded by jingle-crap instead of sunning myself on a beach.

'You too?' a crisp British voice asked from somewhere behind me. I pulled myself up into a more dignified position and turned in my seat. Three rows back a man in a long black wool coat and wearing a red scarf was lounging in a relaxed manner. He closed his book and stuffed it back into his hand luggage, a smile on his face. 'Were you coming in from the States?'

'England,' I corrected automatically.

'Headed south for winter?'

'Something like that,' I confessed. 'Were you heading the other way?'

''Tis the season to sleep on your parent's sofa, you know what I mean?'

I didn't, but I smiled politely regardless. 'I guess they told you that all the hotels were full, too?'

'They weren't, but I figured a family could use the last room more than me, so I gave it up.'

It felt a little foolish to shout across an airport to one another, even if the only other people still around were those stuck at work overnight. I righted my suitcase, snatched up the handle and my hat, and made my way around the row of seats to approach him. Upon closer inspection, I discerned that he was handsome. At least part Asian with a tousled crop of black hair and a charming smile and dimples. I stood awkwardly before him before I extended my hand. 'Jenny,' I introduced myself. 'Jenny Cole.'

'Daniel,' he replied, taking my hand in his large, warm fingers. 'Daniel Nichols.'

'Do you fancy getting a cup of tea or something?' I asked boldly. 'I don't know how much longer I can sit here staring at that ridiculous tree.'

'Not a fan?'

'Would I be flying off to Greece if I was?'

He smiled. 'Probably not.' Daniel reached down for his own case and slung his backpack over his shoulder. 'I'm pretty sure there's a Starbucks around here somewhere.'

'When isn't there a Starbucks around somewhere?'

'Good point. There's probably one at the North Pole.'

'Excess caffeine consumption would explain how Father Christmas and his elves make so many toys every year. If you believe in that sort of thing,' I added, realising how stupid I sounded. 'Which I don't, obviously.'

'I wouldn't judge you if you did. I'd reconsider walking anywhere without CCTV, but I wouldn't judge.'

I wasn't in the habit of walking through empty airports or anywhere with dark corners and blind spots with total strangers, but I was reassured in the fact that my gut told me that Daniel wasn't a serial killer, and that cleaners and security guards periodically passed us by. Pilots and men and women in store uniforms clasping paper coffee cups exited the Starbucks as we entered the café. Others sat in booths, hunched over a porcelain bowl of steaming black coffee, clutching toasted sandwiches and cakes. Meanwhile, more Christmas music blasted overhead, and the baristas behind the counter festooned with bright red Santa hats and jingle bells, rung and tinkled while they wiped down their machines.