December 9th

“I hate Christmas,” Manfred turned to his brother.
“Me too,” the other kid nodded.
“It’s just going to be worse this year, isn’t it?”
“Probably, yes,” Michael looked at his hands.

He had overheard his parents talking about the huge Christmas party in the village, about all the presents that were piled up in farmer Ludwig’s shed. Unfortunately, he had also overheard them arguing about all the drinks and cigarettes his father had spent his Christmas money on and the imploring question of his mother how on earth they would buy Christmas presents for their two boys.

“It’s bad enough that I always have to hear what everyone else got for Christmas when school is back on, I really don’t want to have to watch them getting nice presents, whilst we get socks and jumpers,” Manfred said, trying hard not to cry.
“I know, me neither,” his brother hugged him tight.
“It’s not fair, no one should get presents. Then they would know what it’s like and stop making fun of us…”
Michael looked angry and disappointed at the world.
“Maybe there is something we can do about that.”

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