LITMIR.BIZ

      Katlyn Duncan has been reading and writing since before she can remember; her earliest memories involve dragging her mom to the store to get the latest Goosebumps book. She earned two science degrees and currently works in the medical field. She spends her free time writing, reading, and renovating her Victorian “fixer upper” in southern New England with her husband.

       Four Days Until Christmas

      I’m still riding my end-of-final-exams high when I reach Will’s doorstep. I pull out the spare key Will gave me after he signed the lease to his apartment days after he made the decision to come with me to Manhattan while I attended NYU, and it would only be a few more weeks until he started college for himself. The familiar twinge I’ve been ignoring the past few months pinches at my chest and I do my best to disregard it.

      I open the door slowly, unsure if Will’s roommate and co-worker, Nathaniel, is in the nude again. Seeing him twice was enough for me. But the living room is dark with no sign of life. I close the door behind me and allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Nathaniel insisted on keeping the place like a cave with black curtains. On those rare Sunday mornings when I woke up in Will’s apartment, I could see the appeal. There was enough noise coming from outside the window; at least there was little light so we could pretend we didn’t sleep the day away.

      I could navigate this place in the dark but, in an apartment with two boys, there were always booby traps on the floor. And I don’t feel like tripping over anything or waking up the grumpy downstairs neighbors. A pile of blankets is strewn across the couch, but I can’t make out a body underneath it.

      “Nathaniel?” I whisper, but the pile of blankets doesn’t move. I’m inches away and poke at it with my finger, realizing it’s only blankets with no body underneath. He was probably watching TV—reality shows are his thing—and shuffled off to bed after the late shift.

      A light from the galley kitchen around the corner catches my attention. Someone is in there. I hear the distinct pop of the milk jug cap. I smile to myself. Another thing I’ve learned about Will since we’ve been together is his love for milk at random points in the night, right out of the carton.

      I slip past the couch and silently drop my purse on the coffee table, avoiding bowls and plates with various food cemented to them. I slowly tiptoe towards the kitchen. I imagine surprising my hopefully shirtless tousle-haired boyfriend who I haven’t properly seen in two weeks other than the random video chat in between studying for finals. That twinge pokes harder at me. Don’t kid yourself Hadley, it’s been longer than two weeks.

      When I enter the kitchen, I don’t see the man I love shirtless. Instead I see the curve of lace black panties barely

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