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.