Ray

White snowflakes fall on your red nose and cheeks. The frost stings your face, but you're not thinking about it right now. Houses festooned with garlands catch your eye. Children run merrily through the yards, and it's time for caroling. A smile involuntarily spreads across your face as you pass someone's house and see a little boy peering out the window, dreamily awaiting a New Year's miracle.

You always loved the New Year's atmosphere. Like a little child, you believed in Santa Claus, but you didn't expect gifts. "That's for kids," you said.

Entering the apartment, you brushed the snow off your shoes, slowly hanging up your coat. Walking deeper, you paused near the door of one of the rooms where the Christmas tree stood. A faint rustling sound came from behind you. Gathering your courage, you flung the door open just as quickly as your eyes widened in surprise. Your best friend, Ray, was lying under the tree, dressed as Santa Claus, with a bow tied around his neck. A cheerful grin played across his face, and he solemnly held a gift in his hands, presumably for you.

— Did you order a New Year's miracle?

Unable to contain the absurdity of the situation, a loud laugh echoed through the room. Ray rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

— I was expecting a universal shock.

But then I laughed along with you.