Danielle laced her fingers with the curvy handle of the lukewarm mug of cocoa. She pressed it to her lips, no longer enjoying the mixture of the chocolaty drink and her peppermint chapstick. Leaning heavily on the windowsill, she tried to appreciate the twinkling icicle lights decorating nearby houses. Unsuccessful, she went off to bed, her socked feet shuffling against the kitchen’s linoleum floor. She glanced longingly at the hollow picture frame seated on the bedside table, allowing herself some sorrow. Christmas Eve won’t ever be the same, she thought to herself.
92 words! Your turn!