I arrived well after the other wise men, sweating through my robes and wishing I’d taken a shorter route. I knelt beside the manger and laid out the lamb’s-wool scarf I’d meant to bring. It was soft, pure, perfect. Except the shearing accident had splattered it with dried blood. Mary stared. Joseph’s eyebrows climbed halfway to heaven.

“It’s prophetic symbolism,” I muttered. “You know… blood of the lamb?”

The silence was so heavy it felt like a fourth gift.

Panicking, I pulled a small winter squash from my pack and set it beside the scarf. “And this. For… later.”

The baby gurgled. I decided to take that as forgiveness.

I wanted to install a flip down mirror in my back window. If your lights are set right it shouldn’t cause any problems for you. If they’re not, enjoy your temporary blindness.

I feel like we could probably get Guinness world records to give him a world record for most lies told in a political career. Maybe they could top it off with the second most to show the disparity since I imagine the second most would be another Republican and an outrageous number, but probably one tenth as many as Donald Trump.