Every Christmas Eve, I got a gift from him. People said he was not from the North Pole but a local man disguised as Santa. I was fourteen and curious about everything. That evening I followed him secretly. I saw a portly man put off his white beard. I saw a family photograph on his hut’s wall. I recognised the tiny me in it. The next morning, I rushed to him as he entered the house. He said, “So impatient? Ho Ho Ho” I said, “Yes. I want to give you a gift. I’m Charlie, your lost son, Papa.”
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"Classic"
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