My name's Kyle. I'm 5'10", 160 lbs. , red hair, hazel eyes. I'm only 24, a recent college grad holding down my first "real" job.
I'm a teacher. I love my job. Working with kids is really molding the future. I help to make the world the kind of place I want to be when I'm old and they're in charge.
December found me this year with lots of free time. School let out for holiday break on the 13
th
, and is not in session again until January. Rather that sit around watching TV, I decided to use my time for something good. I signed the paperwork, and the non-profit gave me a bell, a red pot, and a Santa hat. So there I was, keeping myself warm by doing a little I'm-a-white-dude-who-can't-dance dance outside the local post office, ringing my bell.
Out of the post office came a woman. She was tall, I guessed about 6', slim but not bony, and grinning ear to ear. Her red, wavy hair framed her slightly freckled face and contrasted her violently green eyes. The look on her face is what caught my attention. Being a teacher gave me a sixth sense as to when people were up to something, and she was definitely up to something. I watched her slip a fiver into the pot and saunter off to her car, an Outback. Her butt wiggled cutely as she sasheΓ©d to the car. She gave me a little wave of the fingers and drove off.
The rest of the day passed quickly. One kind soul even gave me a coffee. I took down my stand and drove to the charity's office. I joined the other volunteers in a small conference room with few windows looking out on the grey winter's day. We each grabbed our pick of pastry and drink from a side table, and sat down to sort our collection and do our paperwork.
I had sorted about half my money when I pulled out a neatly folded five dollar bill. As I unfolded it, a white piece of paper fluttered to the ground and under the table. I bent under the table and picked it up off the blue industrial carpet. Coming back to a seated position, I laid the paper on the table. As it passed my face, I caught the faintest scent of rose and vanilla. Written in a flowing hand was "Ann, 555-9437. Be my Santa". I knew right away it was the redhead's.
Ann, hmm, what kind of "Santa" are you looking for?
"What's that, Kyle?" asked Jen, another volunteer who was sitting next to me.
"Nothing," I said quickly and started to put it in my shirt pocket.
I must have blushed because Jen practically shouted "Doesn't look like nothing," and grabbed the paper from my hand. "Ann, 555-9437. Be my Santa," Jen recited out loud. I'm sure that my face was bright red at this point, and the other volunteers chuckled.
"Thanks, Jen. Just remember, I always win, I am a teacher. I'll get you back," I promised, snatching the paper from her hand and securing it in the front pocket of my jeans.
"You're no fun," Jen mock-sobbed. I gave her a playful punch on the arm and went back to counting money.
Half an hour later, I was done counting and doing paperwork. I turned it in and headed out to my car. I took my keys from my jeans pocket, and felt Ann's paper. Taking it out, I studied it, then inhaled the rose and vanilla aromas of it again. I got in my car and dialed the number from the paper on my cell.