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“Is she talking to us?” Annie whispered to Nick, grateful someone with any kind of sense was in her proximity again, even if it was only her nerdy next-door neighbor. “Why the fu—” Annie started as a warped version of “The Little Drummer Boy” began on the old Victrola placed in the antique section. “Don’t hurt me, ghost of 2004 Jessica Simpson,” Annie breathed out, squeezing her eyes shut and silently promising to the whole Simpson family to watch her language. When the music stopped its warning, Annie turned back to Nick, “Why would we get involved in a Christmas show?”

“We won’t let Simsbury down. It wouldn’t be Christmas without the school production of A Christmas Carol!” Bailey cheered.

“A Christmas Carol?” Annie groaned, her eyes immediately rolling back into her skull.

“Count us in,” Nick caved under the expectant stares. Bailey cheered and gave his shoulder a small squeeze. Annie punched his other arm.

“What is wrong with you?” Annie hissed in Nick’s ear, dragging him back outside. “I don’t want anything to do with some weird town play! They’re probably going to try and sacrifice us to Santa on the stage after we all overdose on poisonous hot chocolate.”

“Annie, what was I supposed to say? And, what else are we going to do?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know, anything else,” Annie cried out. “Literally, anything else!”

“We don’t have access to our phones or the internet, we can’t even watch TV or stream a movie,” Nick explained.

“No TV? I’m going to die here!” Annie wailed.

“Maybe the way through this thing is just that, we have to go through it. It could be that we’ve been put here for some reason, so why not embrace all these clichés and maybe, by Christmas, all of this will go back to normal.”

“No,” Annie said, shaking her head. “I’m not at the same stage of grief as you are. How dare you already be accepting this! Grant doesn’t own an inn and would never be caught dead without his phone. And that other guy I was talking to in there? The one that is apparently a town regular with a family who owns a Christmas tree farm and who is now directing the yearly Christmas play? I know him from my real life, and that’s not him,” Annie said, her head still shaking, trying to make any sense of what was going on.

“What do you mean?” Nick asked.

“Like, I know him,” Annie said, gritting her teeth.

“He’s your boyfriend?” Nick asked coolly.

“What? No!” Annie said. “He’s someone I had, um, a ‘moment’ or two with,” Annie said, still trying to keep her voice to a whisper. “I haven’t talked to him since Halloween.”

“Since you were 1999 Fabio on a roller coaster?” Nick asked.

“Well, technically, I was Sexy Fabio on a roller coaster post goose,” Annie started.

“Yeah, that goes without saying.” Nick smiled.

“Wait, you remember my costume? How?” Annie asked. Nick turned another shade of pink as Annie reminisced over the long-sleeved, blue, button-down shirt she had painstakingly altered by hand and the small stuffed goose she had proudly sewn the word “silly” on with black thread. The Fabio wig had gone into a Goodwill donation bin right after she left Chris’s apartment for the last time. It conjured too many ick-filled memories for Annie to ever consider wearing it again, but she hoped that perhaps another kindred spirit would find it and use it to fulfill a mutually satisfying sexual journey outside of the truly lackluster experience it had provided for her.

“It was a good costume,” Nick mused, “theatrically speaking … I remember your Instagram picture … and the silly goose,” Nick added with a small appreciative laugh.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” Annie said, her cheeks feeling a bit flushed. “I put a lot of time into it.”

“I could tell,” Nick said.

“Listen,” Annie said, refusing to be distracted by a compliment, “I don’t want to be a part of any of this. Can’t we just go back home and drink until we black out?”

“I need to tell you something,” Nick started.

“No,” Annie said in a whisper, already anticipating what he was about to say.

“I’m pretty sure there’s no alcohol here,” Nick said, confirming her worst fears.

“What? No, my parents have a full bar at home, and your folks had quite the stash too if memory serves.” Annie laughed, but there was a nervous edge to her voice. Nick shook his head sadly.

“Not anymore,” Nick admitted. “I haven’t been able to find a drop of anything anywhere. Remember that pack of seasonal seltzers in my garage? They vanished. Even the peppermint ones.”

“They don’t drink in made-for-TV Christmas movies?” Annie asked, tugging on her hat so it covered her eyes for a needed moment.

“Rarely, and it’s maybe like a sip of celebratory champagne after a victorious town event and only at the very end of the movie.”