My Dear Alice,
The Christmas party was brimming with bliss, despite the fact you were amiss. I'll recount the memories and share the laughter even though we'll never have our happy ever after. As the guests shared amusing stories, dessert crept into the discussion. Finally, it was time to unveil the sweets in a barrage of cheers, laughter, and percussion. Everyone trained their eyes on the golden-brown crusted apple pie, and in anticipation, Mrs. Thomson thought she'd die. Assorted chocolates from France made an appearance next, followed by pushing, shoving, hustle and hand checks. There was no shortage of eager diners, as they swallowed each sweet within reach. I looked around counting twenty-three stained shirts that would need to be bleached.With my second slice of pie and my fifth white chocolate concoction, I collapsed on the couch like convinced the food was laced with toxins. Like a pregnant woman in distress, I patted my stomach and moaned, as the after-effects of the succulent Christmas feast hit home. After lounging like a lazy lion, I heard the shuffling of feet and voices fading into the background. It was time. People gathered their plush winter coats, donning heavy winter boots and thick woolen scarves, the guests made their way through the snow. All that was left to do now was to enjoy the solitude and attempt to preserve a joyful Christmas mood. Everyone knows Christmas is the best time of year, but no matter what I try, I despair. I'll always miss you, my dear.