"First time in years. I used to come in high school. Before the diner. Before the roommate who leaves dishes in the sink like it's performance art. Before I learned that Christmas Eve can feel like a test you didn't study for."
Mikey wiped cream from his mouth with the back of his orange sleeve.
"Uncle Jake said Christmas Eve is for people who don't want to be alone but also don't want to talk about it."
Jake groaned, a soft theatrical sound.
"I said that privately."
"You said it in the car," Mikey corrected. "The car is not that private. The heater was loud but not that loud."
Elena laughed, a warm sound that made Jake's chest do something inconvenient and hopeful.
"Your uncle's a philosopher in satin."