Like always, during this time of year: it was cold, even inside. The through draft of poorly sealed windows settled beneath goosebump-ed skin, and clung onto clattering bones. Maria stood at the stove, rubbing a socked foot against the pant leg of her pajamas. The heat emitting from the black oven as it cooked the turkey was motivation enough to keep her on her feet and stirring the soup, despite the noise of her brothers, Jamie and Mick, and family friends under the age of twenty-two loudly hollering about Mario Kart ranks and the AI, her sister, Josie's, laugh could be clearly heard bouncing around the walls of the house. It smelled good here too, the scent of simmering onions and pepper was nice, and the turkey was beginning to really force her to reminisce on the Christmas dinners before. Maria pushed the gum in her mouth out by her tongue from between her teeth, some sort of watermelon flavour that had long died and now remained only present when she licked her lips. Maria raised her hand and wiped it with the sleeve of her hoodie. Maria slid her hands into the cuffs, escaping the chill against her bare skin. Christmas dinner was always her favourite, it was loud and smelled a lot like food, and there was enough family and friends stuffed in her house to make it burst at the seams, and perhaps negate the wrath of negative-thirty-something. The loud noises of chatter and shouting, notably the boisterous, booming voice of her maternal grandfather, Grandpa Fernando, were swiftly pouring from the living room as people wandered back in and out of their arched entrance to the kitchen, making their way to the fridge and coffee maker to mix hot chocolate.