“Ow!” Carson doubled over and fell.“Oh shit, kid. Are you okay?”“I’m fine,” Carson wheezed, covering his left eye.He felt a firm grip pu...l him to his feet, hefting all of Carson’s 160lb weight with one powerful stroke.“Lemme see that.”Carson pulled his hand off his eye and felt a callused, muscular thumb brush against his cheek.“What was that?” Carson asked, his vision blurry.“I’m sorry,” Mr. Armisen laughed. “I think it was a button.”Carson looked down. A button had popped off his shirt, and. ‘It’s great. Really. And thanks, Rachel. I really appreciate this.’ I stood on tiptoe and gave him a peck on the cheek. (Good things come in small packages — I keep trying to convince myself of that.) ‘Good night.’ ‘G’night.’ I woke up early on Christmas. It had been years since ‘santa’ left a stocking of goodies at the foot of the bed. I still missed this ploy of my parents’ to get another few minutes of sleep on Christmas morning — childish of me, and annoyance at my own childishness elbowed. More

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