Come away from the window - Christmas

The elderly woman lingered. She smelled of thrift shoppes and christmas. She must have delusions that such thing is a mark of beauty. Laid on so thick you can almost see the green tag sale and hear the bell ringers. He remembered. A dog. The door to the outside was oak, and it’s glory weighed upon him. Brushing some canine hair from his sleeve, he turned his attention upward. The chair leaned back a little far and fell. He lay, and as his allergies bothered him immensely, a sneeze arose within, he attempted to make contact. long… long… long... short. short. short. long. long. long. . . . attempting to escape cliché at the expense of nonsense.