JT EVERGREEN SHORT STORIES

My name is Eoghan MacAuliffe. Friends play it safe and call me Mac. It’s amazing how alone one can feel, especially in a city the size of New York. Folks spilling out of skyscrapers and emerging from subways stations, running in every direction imaginable … and, effortlessly ignoring one another. Christmas was approaching and the feeling of aloneness was becoming more and more acute with each passing day. I had enough friends to keep me busy but, as the lyrics of the tune, Blue Moon, kept reminding me ,  I was  without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own. I was not looking forward to the holidays. And, since I no longer believed in Santa Claus, things were looking pretty bleak. Being of British descent, I kept a stiff-upper-lip, hoping no one suspected how unhappy I was. It was a beautiful December Saturday morning as I walked the 65th Street Traverse from the West Side through Central Park to Fifth Avenue, on my way to do some Christmas shopping for kith ...

  My name is Eoghan MacAuliffe. Friends play it safe and call me Mac. It’s amazing how alone one can feel, especially in a city the size of New York. Folks spilling out of skyscrapers and emerging from subways stations, running in every direction imaginable … and, effortlessly ignoring one another. Christmas was approaching and the feeling of aloneness was becoming more and more acute with each passing day. I had enough friends to keep me busy but, as the lyrics of the tune, Blue Moon, kept reminding me , I was without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own. I was not looking forward to the holidays. And, since I no longer believed in Santa Claus, things were looking pretty bleak. Being of British descent, I kept a stiff-upper-lip, hoping no one suspected how unhappy I was. It was a beautiful December Saturday morning as I walked the 65th Street Traverse from the West Side through Central Park to Fifth Avenue, to do Christmas shopping for kith and kin back ...