Across town, Charlotte finished wrapping the numerous gifts for herself, her husband of twenty-three years, her two grown children and three grandchildren. (As a refresher, please read Charlotte’s story two postings back). She was finally ready for Christmas. Or nearly so. All that remained where the stocking stuffers. She liked buying new toothbrushes for everyone. But that was tomorrow’s assignment. Tonight, she had intended to curl up with her husband and watch “The Matrix” for the umpteenth time. Somewhere between her eldest applying for college and today, this film had become enshrined as one the their cherished holiday traditions. And while her sons are sheepish about rolling “The Matrix” in front of their young boys, Charlotte has come to relish it. Neo choosing between the red pill and the blue pill.  His watery arrival to Nebuchadnezzar. So many rich details to chew over each year with that Christmas-y feeling inside her. The problem is that her husband of twenty three years is late. Very late. It’s past ten and still no sign of him. He likes to introduce himself as Mr. X. As of late he’s been distant. Remote. She found stray blonde hairs on his impeccable three piece suit, but said nothing. On the cusp of jealousy, Charlotte stares out the window at the crazy display of Christmas cheer. And waits for the sound of Mr. X’s key turning the lock.