Her house is full of knick-knacks. More than average, I guarantee. One table even exists solely for the purpose of holding the trinkets her students have given her over the years, covered from corner to corner. Come December, Christmas trinkets blanket the house in red, green, and gold, indistinguishable from the daily residents, yet adding palpable warmth. Even the lampshades have angels hanging from them, peacefully observing our traditions. They don’t roll their eyes when he pulls out the video camera, or giggle at her obsession with wrapping paper. The angels hang in silent watch, unfettered by human imperfection.
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