A Night Before Christmas

I moved over the summer about a year ago, having told none of my friends only two hours away--but I wouldn't afford the gas to visit. Yet here I am with a Santa hat, passing out mints for the parade-- I suppose that no one will know that I was here today, except my Brother's friends. It's towards the end of the crowds, much past sunset, when I spot you. I know that I've seen your face before, and that you know mine well. A sense of fear rolls out from my throat, and I hear a voice behind you speak: "Did she think that with new clothes and a haircut, we wouldn't recognize her?" I start running back to the wagon to refill my hat with candy canes, and continue sprinting up an down the lines of crowds. My fellows from the float catch on to half of my anxiety, and begin to speed up-- they laugh, and have smiles on their faces, while dashing. As we climb onto the truck, and wave goodbye, your face is gone. I knew beforehand that I'd never see you again, and as I think it again now, I am ready to go home.