Tunes.
Christmas tunes whisper softly in the air, accented by heels clacking on tile, voices laughing, complaining, conversing, and the generally raucous holiday crowds. Zachie looks at shirts and shoes, samples colognes and perfumes, and chatters happily. Now and again a shock of brown hair flashes in the corner of my eye, and my heart skips a beat. I turn sharply, swiftly, but I know it will not be him. Each time, disappointment greets me, and I rush headlong into its embrace. Each time, I luxuriate in stolen seconds of imaginary joy, believing that I will see him, until the time has elapsed, and I know that he is not there, and I slip smoothly back into emotional nothingness. I wander through the mall with Zach, Christmas tunes whispering in the air, and I wish that he were here.