Rozdestvo_tak_xocetsya_zit

When he opened it, he found his neighbor’s young daughter, Anya, holding a lopsided paper star covered in too much glitter.

For months, the world had felt like it was fading to gray. Pyotr had stopped answering the phone; the voices on the other end felt like they belonged to a life he no longer lived. He looked at the meager tree in the corner—a spindly thing he’d bought from a street vendor out of a lingering sense of duty. It had only one ornament: a glass bird with a chipped wing that had belonged to his mother. rozdestvo_tak_xocetsya_zit

"My mom said you might be lonely," she said, thrusting the star toward him. "It’s for your tree. It’s a magic star. If you hang it, you have to make a promise to the New Year." When he opened it, he found his neighbor’s

A sharp rap at the door startled him. He hadn't expected anyone. He looked at the meager tree in the

Pyotr took the star, the wet glue sticking to his fingers. "What kind of promise?"