my turn to sit on santas lap

Santa's chair has never looked quite like this. You're watching her settle in, slow and deliberate, red velvet riding up as she makes herself comfortable across his lap, fingers curled around his collar.

Her expression says she wrote this wish list herself. No cookies left on the counter tonight — she came prepared to negotiate something far more interesting, and the negotiation is already going her way.

You almost feel like an intruder catching this moment, the holiday backdrop absurd and perfect all at once. Almost. Mostly you just feel like you should have shown up to this particular Christmas party sooner.