After he wrote the last of his gifts, before he fell into a Christmas Eve slumber, it was still raining.
The next morning he arrived in the town square and began to distribute his gifts. He gave away everything. Every possession he owned, then talents, his interests, his ideas, his heart. Last of all, left a shell, he gave his memory to a stranger, a foreign woman who had no knowledge of Christmas.
And then he received; he was rebuilt by generosity. Like the rain that had somehow built into snow, the people reassembled themselves; each walked away a mosaic.
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