“The sled marks outside my Papa’s fine peppermint laced windowsill tell me he’s been gone for quite a few hours. Papa always leaves just before Christmas, It’s his job, I guess I have to respect that. Across the finely laid road of Peanut Brittle Way lies Santamaus Clause’s large factories and humble little cottage, he always has been a humble, giving man. The silver bells hanging forth from the Christmas tree reflect my silky skin and long brown hair. My lovely new hunter green and apple red dress reminds me of poinsettia, My papa bought me this dress for my Coming Out Ball months ago, the very night I was introduced to Mr. Clause, his crude beard and rose tinted cheeks reminded me of my grandfather, not a suitor! I hope that he isn’t too tired from his trekking with my father; I never understood why Mr. Clause doesn’t buy his own sleigh, though my father’s unique craftsmenship does allow for speedy quests and ventures. I’ve never left this little town, I wonder where he goes on Christmas Eve, My father never talks about it nor does 'Santa' (a loving nickname, I assure you) speak of on the cold nights cuddling by the fire. I want to fly with him on his midnight adventure!” Emily set down her pen the moment she heard the snow’s crunch under heavy foot outside her front door and the familiar knocking of a carol on the wood. She threw her diary on her bed and gathered herself to her feet, skipping to the door. “I’m back!” boomed a great and jolly voice as Santa shook the fine snow from his hat, hanging it on the nearby hat rack and embracing Emily openly in his arms. “Oh, I missed you!” Emily shouted as she dug her face into his warm beard as his great arms enveloped her in a loving ‘bear hug’. “I missed you too, little lady” Santa set Emily down once more to the floor while she stared lovingly and anxiously into his big brown eyes. Santa dug into his white fur lined pockets on his red coat and brought forth a lump of black in his ebony gloved hand. “You’ve been very good this year, And… And I was just wondering” He opened the black lump, Emily’s eyes gleamed in the reflection of great ruby and emerald gems set in a golden ring… Tears welled up in both their eyes. Santa dropped to his knee in a not-so-graceful sweep to the floor “Would you give me the honor of becoming… Mrs. Clause?” Like he even had to ask.