Christmas Eve

The sun dipped sluggishly over the naked sky, its blinding afternoon light taking on a hue of copper and then gold.

The light spilled across the hills and over the evergreen and broadleaf trees, lingering there for a long while. Streaks of amaranth clouds settled in the east, hovering over the distant hills beyond the still blue waters of the Clyde.

Christmas Eve was an exceptionally clear day with barely a gust of wind. But for the fallen temperature and leafless oaks, silver birches, beeches, and hawthorns laden with crimson fruits, one would have mistaken this day for a summer day.

The roads, streets, and avenues, usually bursting with life, had almost fallen silent as people, having gone through their late shopping in stores and supermarkets decked with festive lights, snuggled down in their homes, preparing to make merry. A prelude to Christmas Dinner.