CHRISTMAS_CHEER

 

It was so near to Christmas that Nathaniel could spit at it without missing. 

He was out in the cold December air. The sky was the colour of dead flesh, as thick brooding clouds drifted smoothly across the flat expanse above him. It could snow he mused, but it would probably rain. 

Nathaniel was not a great fan of the season of goodwill, even less a fan of winter, but on this cold, grey, dull morning, he was half-way towards being moderately content. Nature around him was doing its thing, in its sleepy, drifting, can't be arsed way, as it waited for Spring. And he, in his own way, was as drifting and un-arsed as the world around him.

So all in all, Nathaniel, temporarily at least, had an element of cheer about him. He was pretty sure it wasn't a Christmas cheer. But hey, the day was still young.