*It’s that time of year again, time for a Christmas story in August!*
—
“You’re en elf, not a stripper, Mitchell. Pull your skirt down,” Kevin grumbled, “and put that cigarette out while you’re at it. No smoking on the job.”
Penny Mitchell left her skirt as it was and took another drag from the cigarette pinched between her fingers.
“I’m not on the job, *Kevin*,” she drawled, smoke curls escaping along with her words and framing her face in the cold December air. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my dad.”
Kevin groaned. “Thank god for that, and judging by what my watch says”—he paused to roll up his sleeve—“you are, in fact, now six minutes late for your shift. Get inside.”
He gestured towards the door that led into the shopping mall. He and Penny were standing on the edge of the back parking lot, the frigid air only slightly dulling the reek from the huge metal garbage bins sitting next to them. This was where the food court dumped its waste, and where disgruntled mall employees huddled to smoke away their few moments of freedom during their shifts.