You don’t watch people die so many times, without knowing the signs. Vivien knew this was her last Christmas. Her old bones couldn’t handle the adverse temperatures, and her body aches when it got colder. The old house had poor heating, and even when it was up higher and higher. It was still shiveringly chilly, and had Vivien had many teeth left, the way her jaw shook when she pulled the blanket tighter in her arms, would have made an audible noise. Vivien stared at the roof or whatever was in eye-line, wishing there was a way to turn back the clock for only a moment, so she could only readjust and lay on her side in her favourite armchair, like a young woman again. Vivien waited a long time, watching the fireplace crinkle on the flickering TV that was more than a few decades too old to be repaired. The fluff of the blanket was soothing against bare skin, as were the socks pulled up to about half-calf. Both were likely considered antiques, which meant Vivien had to be something more ancient than that. She smelled the scent of her late husband's cologne, that her youngest grandson, Ryan, sprayed in the air in an attempt to help Vivien move on. It made Vivien miss Fernando all the more. Vivien had loved and lost several husbands over the years, three to be exact. This one, however, she wasn’t prepared to say goodbye to. Not forever, she planned to follow him over. The tree flickered, a bauble fell as the cat toyed with the bottom branches, leaving scratches and ruining the false pines. Vivien hissed out some sort of command to stop, but the cat just chirped and continued. Vivien, in the end, didn’t mind enough to stand up and stop him, she didn’t want to face the cold beyond the confines of her old blanket. It’s not like the tree would get much more use.