Originally posted on Lady Jabberwocky using the given prompt: Write a story based on the word ”gift”.

[Minor edits for spelling and a single word addition.]

He stuffed another package into an increasingly overflowing cargo plane filled with presents and packages meant for loved ones, or sometimes as a present for one’s self if the prices on Amazon were right. It was probably one of the last flights that had a chance of getting purchases to their destination before Christmas Day.

John cracked his fingers and looked up at the dark grey skies.

“Gonna snow,” he said to no one in particular, especially not to the resident village idiot, Geoff who had managed to sneak up on him from behind.

“You’re always right,” Geoff chimed in. The boy was right. John was already six for six this year alone. “It’s like you have a special kind of gift of predicting when it will snow.”

John looked at his coworker. “It’s not a gift. It’s arthritis, you boob. Now, get back to work”.

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