The youngster sat cross-legged, in the semi-circle of children, at Santa's feet. He was watching the glittering mound of gifts eroding away as, one by one, they were matched with their recipients.

Miracles happened to other people and why expect that this Christmas would be any more rich in them than before? He'd been brought to this group home from the emergency shelter just last night. The priest had tried to locate his meth addicted mother all of yesterday, until evening, when over a bowl of soup, the boy had told a social worker that he didn't want to be with her anymore, anyway.

So, there wasn't going to be a gift, not that he would've got anything anyway and definitely not for a twelve year old new kid. He rationalized it was because they didn't even know he was here. He tried to feel happy for everyone else's joy in their presents.

"Bobby Jackson." The elf was looking at the pile of kids beneath the shredded wrapping paper, "Bobby?"

Santa was holding the last present from under the tree and smiling at him! "Here you go, my boy! Merry Christmas!"

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