Sarah Winman. The lonely man (№ 355874)

Sometimes I open the sliding door and I hear Christmas is coming. Passers-by talking about who is going where and who is going to buy. I listen as clerks, madrasis at the Christmas co-op, yelling songs. Sometimes I crawl out and see how wicked couples making out in dark corners. And think about the fact that this is a stolen soft - start of something or, conversely, the end.