Wayne laid on his bed, eyes squeezed tight to fight back the tears. He needed to believe. He had to believe. He tried to shut out his parents’ voices that sounded loud and clear through the paper thin walls of their apartment.
“For God’s sake Charlie, the boy is 11, almost 12, not five. Why’d you go off on that Santa Claus garbage?”
“Everyone needs a reason to hope. I want to keep the belief alive. I don’t care if most of the year life here ain’t worth beans, tonight should be magic.”
“Well, you better pray there is some magic ‘cause neither of us can afford any toys for the boy.” Continue reading