A good friend of mine, the award-winning short story guru and now novelist Bob Thurber, has supplied a link to an old Christmas story of his that I would like to share (follow the link after the sample).
On the drive across town I thought of nothing else. Not my ex-wife, whose car I had begged to borrow, or my daughter experiencing her first Christmas without me.
My headlights carved tunnels in the slanting snow. I found a clear spot in a tow zone and bumped up onto the curb. I left the engine running, headlights on, not caring if I ever saw that car again.— (continued)