Christmas Day dawned with the usual blend of joy and bittersweet memories. My name is Ray Mills, and as I stand in front of a charming little Christmas shop on Main Street, I can't help but feel the weight of what it once was. Mom is back home in Virginia, and Dad is welcoming my sister and her kids into the familiar warmth of Raechester, North Carolina, where I grew up. At 36, I've come to terms with my mistakes amidst my accomplishments. Yet, as I gaze at two love-struck mannequins dressed in matching holiday attire, a pang of longing reverberates within a hollow space in my heart where something essential seems to be missing.