Shallow Hearts

I stared at the Christmas card emotionless and not really absorbing the message sent. It was kind, to be sure, but it was unwarranted. Then there was the whole self-centered note that was too much in contrast with the generosity of the holiday season. I looked at the final words in carefully-scrawled red pen: "P.S. Please tell me what you do with this gift." I turn the card over, grab one of the many pens around and write in messy black: "Due to the recent economy 20 bucks was not enough to pay for paper or postage. I am in fact lucky to have this pen. As for the McDonald's coupons- they do very little to feed a vegetarian without a car. Thank you for your yearly contribution to my well being. Merry Christmas." I then reseal the envelope and drive it back to the post office- dropping the meaningless twenty dollars and coupons into a donation box for kids who actually need them. I tell the man that a letter had arrived in my mail box that was not for me. I'd never heard of that man in my life. It was obviously some mistake. He says they'll send it back to the return address. I go home for a dinner of stuffed chicken. It was the best meal I'd had in a long time.