The elves departed slowly, their usual cheerfulness extinguished like candles in a winter wind. Jingleberry lingered after the others had gone, hovering near the doorway as if physically unable to leave his boss alone with this news.
"Jingleberry," Santa said gently, "you need to rest. Tomorrow will be difficult enough."
"I don't understand," Jingleberry whispered. "You built this place. You built us. How can he just... remove you?"
Santa moved around his desk and placed a weathered hand on his loyal friend's shoulder. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but it only seemed to make things worse. Jingleberry's eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"Because I'm old, my friend. Because the world changes, and sometimes those of us who built yesterday get left behind in it." Santa squeezed his shoulder once more. "You're going to be stronger than you know. All of you will be."
After Jingleberry finally left, Santa stood alone in his office as the afternoon light continued its slow retreat. He looked at the red suit hanging on the coat rack, at the photographs on his walls, at the snow globe from 1823. These objects had defined his existence for so long that looking at them now felt like examining someone else's life.
He began to move methodically through his office, gathering the few personal items that mattered. A photograph of his first Christmas with the elves. A wooden ornament carved by Jingleberry's great-grandfather. The coffee mug that read "World's Best Christmas Coordinator"—which now felt like a cruel joke.
Santa placed these items into a worn leather satchel, each one a small goodbye. The office grew emptier with each object removed, and Santa himself seemed to diminish as well. By the time he finished, the space looked less like the headquarters of Christmas and more like a hotel room someone had just checked out of.
He took one final look around, his hand trailing across the empty desk. Three hundred years of Christmas Eves, reduced to the contents of a single bag. Santa picked up his satchel, turned off the lights, and closed the door behind him. He didn't look back.
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