How hard could it be for the Spirits and Such office to scrounge up one simple Christmas tree?
Written for mp100secretsanta2017
Something in Reigen jolted back to his own childhood, the memory as tender as a loose baby tooth. He recalled the whiff of instant hot chocolate cooling in the musty TV room, a kotatsu warming his toes, his mother falling asleep by his side to the hum of infomercials, her face cast in the soft, multi-colour glow of the freshly cut Christmas tree they had decorated together.
“Ah,” Reigen found his voice. “Of course, Mob. A tree.”