The sappiest thing you’ll ever read

“On Christmas Eve, it always snows at 11:30, it’s Christmas magic,” explained the boy, bundled up in a thick blue jacket. He wore a dark scarf across his chin. It muffed his voice. Little mittens were clipped to the ends of his sleeves, and he wore a knitted hat with a dangling pom-pom.

His older brother rolled his eyes at him and yanked up at the collar of his red coat. He shoved his hands in his pockets. A bitter chill ran through the air and he watched as his breath left a trail as it disappeared into the dark.

His little brother moved his legs quickly across the snowless ground to keep up. He looked up at his brother’s visible breath and immediately began to mime holding a cigarette, blowing his pretend smoke up at the street lights.

“Don’t do that,” said the older brother, “it’s stupid.”

The younger boy barely heard him as they entered downtown. The shop windows displayed animatronic elves and Santa Clauses, and Christmas lights ran along the ridges of the roofs, rhythmically flashing. Far off, music could be heard. The soft sound of Christmas carols.

“You tell me when it’s 11:30, okay?” said the younger brother, looking intently at the cottonball snow in the window, “it’ll be snowing.”

“Whatever. Hurry up. We’ll miss the tree lighting. Mom and Dad will wonder where we are.” He grabbed his little brother by the arm and pulled him along the busy downtown streets.

The massive evergreen tree in town square had been lit for weeks, its all-white lights creating a brilliant glow in the centre of town, but still people gathered on Christmas Eve to watch again as they came on for the night.

“Do you think Santa has already started?” said the younger boy, staring up at the sky as he was pulled along, the pom-pom from his hat jumping with every step. “There are already stars out.”

“Those aren’t stars,” said his brother, “that’s the light from the factory.”

They met up with their parents at the square. The young child walked on the park benches as they approached the tree. The older brother pressed his hands against his exposed ears. On the other side of the tree, people stood in a ground, singing We Wish You a Merry Christmas.

The lights came on unspectacularly at 8 p.m., the small crowd applauding briefly before going back to song and conversation. The hundreds of lights were reflected in the young boy’s wide eyes as he stared at the star atop the tree.

The blue lights of the factory were still flashing, and the wind began to whistle as it came through the bare trees lining the street. Without a whisper, a snow flake emerged from the blackness and drifted down to the ground. Soon more came, twisting and blowing in the cold wind.

The older boy came up beside his young brother, who was twirling around with his tongue out, trying to catch the falling flakes.

“What time is it,” he asked his brother, giggling as he jumped and spun around to catch the snow.

The older brother checked his digital watch with an exaggerated glance.

“It’s 11:30,” he lied, with a half-smile, “just like you said.”