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The Red Pub
It was the night before Christmas when Laura looked out of her window while peeling a tangerine. The smell reminded her of the years when she spent the holidays with her family instead of her two cats that certainly won’t bring her presents, but they won’t judge her for not wanting any kind of relationships either. Just when she bit on the first slice and the sour juice slipped under her tongue she noticed something unusual. For the first time since she had lived accross the famous red pub, the lights in the room above where out.
They always say we think the times of our childhood were the best because we tend to idealize it. The dull days on a campsite were filled with dragon defying magic, the food prepared on the small stove in the van was that of a five-star restaurant in France, and finally, the dead body in the glistering lake was just a floating tree. At least that was what I told myself for years until we decided to take our kids on vacation and returned to where I had seen it.