Boston, MA

While changing the smoke detector in my living room, Victor, the maintenance man, asks if I’m going to get a Christmas tree. I tell him that I’m looking into buying one online because I don’t have a car and would need to have it delivered.

“You can buy a fuckin’ tree online?” he asks.

“I guess so. I heard about it on the news.”

The next day Victor is at my door.

“Hey, D. I don’t mean to take up too much of your time or anything,” he says.

He is holding a Christmas tree.

December 2009

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