Santa Meets the Tooth Fairy*
They meet at a party
and the attraction is instant,
surprising them as much as anyone—
what, with his wide-belted girth and crinkled eyes
and her spun-sugar hair and silver-veined wings.
Within moments of being introduced, she takes his hand
and leads him to a moonlit room, empty except for a bed
covered by a single snowy blanket. Softly,
he shuts the door, and the floor tilts
under her dainty feet.
They share a sense of humor about their situation.
When he promises not to take her on his lap
and ask her what she wants,
she trills, then touches his cheek,
sending small licks of flame through his frost-bitten skin,
even before her fingertips travel
under miles of plush red velvet
to feel his heart beat.
Afterward, he says he'll drive her home,
but she straightens an iridescent strap on her slender shoulder
and reminds him she still has work to do.
One last kiss, and she’s gone,
so quickly he feels like a boy
who’s just learned his toy train came from the mall,
not the North Pole.
Later, as she’s lifting the pillow of a sleeping child,
she catches the scent of soot and scotch and pine trees on her skin,
and she, who always works in silence,
hears a sigh
escape from her own ribs.
At the same moment, he’s riding across the sky
with a pair of soft leather reins in his hands
when he’s suddenly engulfed
by the fragrance of an orchid that blooms
just one night a year.
"Santa Meets the Tooth Fairy" was originally published in Fiction at Work
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