The staff and residents breathed the forbidden Christmas scent. The scent of mutiny.
Hearts ablaze, needles flying, cackling grannies knitted. Their knobby hands birthed oversized stockings.
Old gents strategized, stroking long, white beards. They reappeared, decked out in red shirts.
The ladies clapped. The men ho-ho-ho-ed back.
In the kitchen, the microwave whirred. Pop-pop! The receptionists returned with popcorn, string, and a song in their hearts.
Moments later, the potted palm sported a garland. Someone dug up a star.
Christmas was back.