When Boris arrived at home, he was greeted by Grace, rooted on the couch, surrounded by Black Friday fliers. “Where did you get all those?” he asked.
“The mail. Isn’t it great? It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” said Grace. She placed the flier she was reading on a stack on the side table. It teetered precariously above her head.
“Not really. It looks dangerous.”
“Nah. It’s fun. Look at all these sales,” said Grace.
“On crap we didn’t even know we needed,” said Boris.
“You know what you are? A grinch.”
“I’m an economic realist. We can’t afford half the stuff in those fliers.”
“It’s Christmas. The season of giving,” said Grace.
“More like the season of greed.”
Grace folded her arms. “You know, I don’t have to buy you anything this year.”
“And I’d get the best gift ever. A life I can actually afford.”
“Fine,” said Grace sharply. She slammed another flier on the pile. It wobbled on the side table.
“Nothing good’s gonna come of this,” warned Boris.
“What are you talking about?”
“This whole Black Friday thing. It’s insane. People get hurt all the time,” said Boris.
“You’re crazy. It’ll be fine. You’ll see. I’ll go out early and be back before you have your morning coffee.”
“I have a bad feeling.”
“You always have a bad feeling,” said Grace. She shifted her weight on the couch, bumping the side table. The huge pile of fliers collapsed on top of her and she grabbed at her face.
When Grace pulled her hand away she saw a streak of red. “I’m bleeding!”
“I got paper cuts from the fliers. See?”
Boris examined the scratches on Grace’s face. “I’m not sure you’ll live. I’m sorry. You were so young.”
Grace punched him in the stomach. “It really hurts. Do you think it’ll leave a scar?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Boris stroked his beard and shook his head. “It’s sad to think how easily you’ve become one more innocent victim of Black Friday.”