Meeting Abigail Benson Part 3

The death of her mother, paired with the onset of fibromyalgia, had left Abigail drained. This made mustering up any sort of Christmas spirit next to impossible.
She had always thought of herself as a strange woman and often found it difficult to make friends. When she lost her mom, she had been left in the world all alone. Making the holidays that much more isolating.
Abigail felt the empty echo of magic ringing through the season. She often found herself in a shell of loneliness, trying to pretend like there was nothing wrong.
Even if she could make friends, her pain made it hard for her to be an attentive friend. Being alone was simply easier and normally she was more than okay with it.
Despite her lack of holiday spirit, Abigail decided to set up a Christmas tree. A seemingly small gesture. Her meager attempt to feel somewhat a part of the holiday season. She realized that her lack of inclusion was mostly her own doing. With the weight of her pain slowly increasing, it was just too hard to be a part of the rest of the world. Not to mention too exhausting.
She could pretend, though. And pretend she would.
She made her way into the basement to the spot reserved to store the relics of times gone by. Finding the box of Christmas stuff was almost like going on an archeological dig. Combing through the ruins of her old life brought up memories. Ones she would have rather left unearthed.
The box with the tiny imitation tree was on a shelf in the basement. Covered in a blanket of dust. Abigail thought it was enough dust to make one think it had been forgotten about for good.
She blew the condensed layer of the grey dust off the box. Wondering if it had really been that long since she had attempted to take part in holiday traditions.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy them. She was that tired. With no one to share the workload with also meant there was no one to share the joy with. So what was the point?
Maybe Smoke and Mirrors will appreciate my efforts, she thought to herself. After all, they did enjoy shiny things.
Blowing the dust off the box hadn’t quite done the trick. She grabbed a rag and started to wash off the thick layers of dirt. Suddenly regretting her sudden surge of desire to do Christmas.
As she moved the rag, she heard a strange sound. It sounded like a tiny voice gasping in surprise.
Confused, she looked around. For a moment, she thought she could see something. Where the tiny voices had come from, there was a small green person. There couldn’t be. She was pretty sure she was imagining things.
Abigail shook her head. She must be exhausted. That’s what it is. A hallucination.
She looked again. There was nothing. Thank goodness. She thought as she continued about the business of cleaning the dust from the box. Taking it upstairs when she was certain that it wasn’t going to create a mess in her living space. All she needed was more mess to clean up in her already untidy living space.
“You almost got us caught!” said a little voice, hiding on the shelf next to a hole where the box had been resting moments before.
“How was I supposed to know she was going to clean it?” said a second voice. “She hasn’t touched that box since her mother passed. I didn’t think she was going to go through with it, let alone clean it”
Upstairs, Smoke was the first to investigate the new land of opportunity. In proper feline fashion, she was far too curious. So curious, in fact, that she missed the two tiny glowing creatures.
The two glowing figures carefully slipped past both cats. Flying up the stairs, they quickly zinged through the wall.
“Let’s get back home before we screw this up,” the green figure said to her smaller friend as they darted behind a tree.
Abigail remained oblivious to the strange, glowing visitors. She continued to decorate the tree. To her delight, it seemed to be rekindling a glimmer of her Christmas spirit.
Smoke and Mirrors, mesmerized, watched as she hung every decoration. Their big round eyes grew wider with every shiny bobble added.
“It’s not for Kitties,” Abigail said to Smoke, who looked back at her with her big green eyes and ears laid flat.
It’s not for kitties was the worst possible thing a human could say. In Smoke’s opinion, it was quite rude and offensive. After all, everything is for kitties, especially shiny trees.