The Snow Globe

Gerard never really understood why he kept it. The little snow globe always reminded him of her, and even now, he couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Of course, he never wanted to forget her, but the memories the little glass sphere brought back were anything but happy.

He picked it up carefully in one hand, winding it with the other. He shook it for a moment before the music started, watching the little flakes of makeshift snow swirl around inside it. They moved in no distinct pattern, fluttering here and there as they pleased, surrounding the little model of a house with a flurry of white. For a moment, he couldn't see the scene inside the globe at all.

Gerard couldn't help but hum along to the music as he set the snow globe down, wiping at his eyes, though no liquid had managed to brim over yet. He knew the melody well, having wound the globe up to listen to it countless times. It was repetitive, playing the same thirty seconds of music over and over, but still pretty.

Lyn had loved it since she'd spotted it through the window of an old antique shop not far from their house. She'd asked for the price and winced, deciding it was too much money to spend on something like that, though Gerard assured her it would have been alright if she really wanted it.

She only shook her head and smiled, rubbing her stomach, which was getting huge. "It's okay. Besides, we still need to buy gifts for the baby. He's due before Christmas," she reminded him without real need. He'd been counting down the days as anxiously as her.

He'd kept his eyes on the globe, though, as December flew by in a flurry of snow, shopping and decorating. The little decoration remained in it's place, never moving, the price never changing. As he was always with his wife, Gerard never got the chance to get it for her. He made a last-minute decision on Christmas Eve to run out and buy it, telling Lyn he'd be right back.

Luckily, the little shop was still open, and there was the snow globe, waiting patiently for someone to claim it as their own. While paying for it, Gerard looked out the front window and managed to catch a glimpse of a fire truck speeding past, it's lights and siren going. He couldn't help but feel horrible for whoever it was that was having fire trouble the day before Christmas. He sincerely hoped nobody was hurt.

He didn't take long. When he left the store, he noticed thick gray clouds filling the sky not far away. Smoke. He turned onto his street, and things started to blur, not making sense anymore.

Flames, bright orange and destructive, smothered his home, spewing a mass of black from the top of the disaster. He couldn't remember much about those few moments, but he could hear someone screaming Lyn's name loudly. It took him a second to realize he was the one yelling, though it didn't matter much.

Then, at the hospital, when they told him she was gone...

He still wasn't sure how he managed to make it through this year without her. The song stopped playing abruptly, and Gerard picked up the globe to wind it again, sighing. Suddenly, he felt something bang into him from behind. He lurched forward, the glass sphere dropping from his hand. He moved to catch it, but gravity was faster. It smashed on the ground, soaking the carpet.

He groaned and turned around to face the object that had collided with him. "Oops," the child said. "It bwoke, dada?" He almost laughed, picking up his daughter.

"Yeah, sweetie, it broke." He put her on the couch. "Now stay here while I clean it up." He bent over and picked up the shattered pieces gingerly, humming softly to himself. He sighed. 'Merry Christmas, Lyn.'