Christmas in August

I expected more appliqués,” I said, scanning the line of extras in front of us. Chad and Lee nodded as they shielded their eyes from the rising sun and wiped sweat from their brows. Both were taller than Carrie and I, and were taking the brunt of the heat. “Yes, definitely expected more sequins,” said Carrie. Since this was going to be a Christmas movie, the production company email had said to wear long pants and winter sweaters, as Christmassy as we could manage, and to bring a coat. Each of us had done that, along with the couple hundred people around us. The email hadn’t mentioned the long wait outside in the sun, however, and everyone’s fancy—but mostly unsparkly—winter clothes were now showing rings of sweat.

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Jennifer Barton’s fiction and nonfiction has appeared in numerous publications, such as Hawk and Handsaw, Motif, Pindeldyboz, Lost, New Southerner, and Work, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She received her MFA from the New School in New York City in 2007, and is currently a writing tutor in Knoxville, Tennessee.

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