SECRET SANTA

Somebody drew your name three weeks ago and has been quietly figuring you out ever since. Wrapped at the kitchen table the night before with whatever was in the drawer — newspaper, twine, and too much tape. There's a candy cane stuck under the string, because that's what you do. The tag has a first name on it in handwriting you don't recognize yet. Black Tie — Peppermint, white paper, clean linen. Cold and crisp, straight off the sheet. Barn — Newsprint, canvas, printing ink, cedar shelf, dry musk. Ink-stained hands and an old shop in winter.