For days, the anticipation of Christmas morning burned inside the pit of Wendell’s stomach brighter than a hundred eternal Yule logs. He couldn’t be bothered to run a brush through the mess of sandy hair curling every which way atop his head. He rubbed grit out of his green eyes to clear up the view of the stacks of presents forming a barrier around the ballroom’s tree. His cheeks bore wrinkles from a still-warm pillowcase half a house away. The wrapped packages were so numerous that the colors and shapes were no less distinguishable once in focus than before. He had indeed received what any boy who had everything could want: more.

One particular parcel caught his attention more than the others. A thin, velvety blue box, square as it could be, hung from a tree branch amidst a halo of little white lights. No ribbon. No bow. Just his initials monogrammed in gold on the face of it. Tiptoeing, he made his way through the other packages to get a closer look. With care, he slipped the gift away from the tree and held it aloft, watching the lights catch on the monogram.

“Well, go on,” his father’s voice urged from behind. “Open it up.”

Wendell looked back around to see his parents, robed and in an embrace. “What is it, Mom? Dad?”

“Bring it here, Wendell,” his mother instructed as she bent down on her knees.

Wendell moved quickly through the field of presents as a delighted grin overtook his face. His father beamed and warmed his hands up in the pockets of his robe. Holding the lovely mystery box with both hands, Wendell skipped over to his mother.

“Now, Wendell,” his mother began. “This box contains a one-of-a-kind treasure. Something so rare, your father and I had it specially made for you in Tibet by a magician.”

Wendell’s eyes grew wide. What rare treasure indeed could have come from such exotic origin? Certainly, such a thing that would drive his friends mad with envy. Could they even get one for themselves after learning of its existence? Didn’t sound like it. Wendell slowly opened the box with awe and respect.

Attached to a thin silver chain, he found a round piece of gray metal that looked like a coin, etched with interesting symbols and designs he couldn’t recognize. He freed the necklace from its velvety box and dangled it in front of his own puzzled face. More curious than excited now, he tried to decipher anything from the markings.

“This talisman,” his father explained, “was made with the ability to empower its wearer with satisfaction. Your name and birthday have been specifically worked into the symbols to give it more strength and make it work for you alone.”

“Do you like it?” his mother asked, arching her brow.

Wendell wasn’t sure. It wasn’t at all what he was expecting, but admittedly, it was one thing he didn’t have. A magical amulet! It may not be the magic he would have chose, but it still sounded cool.

“I guess so,” Wendell said, and then immediately became afraid that he sounded ungrateful. “Definitely, yes,” he corrected. “May I put it on?”

His mother unclasped the necklace and helped situate the talisman around Wendell’s neck. He didn’t know what to expect. His parents held their breath and he was concerned that they, too, didn’t know what might happen. There wasn’t any sound, or light, or magical floating sensation. He wasn’t sure he felt any different than before.

“Am I supposed to feel magicked?” he asked his parents.

They exchanged an amused glance, shrugging.

“We don’t know,” his father admitted. “The only instructions were to put it on.”

“It looks nice, anyway,” his mother offered. “Let’s see what’s inside these other presents, shall we?”

The three of them pivoted toward the forest of wrapping paper before them. Only this time, that burning sense of anticipation Wendell had felt before was gone. The warmth he felt now was more like a bath or his bed. He could barely muster up the curiosity to figure out what might be inside all those boxes. In fact, the mere act of opening them up seemed like a hassle and mess. And for what? Minutes of fascination until the gift felt less like a gift and more like something waiting to be replaced?

“What’s wrong?” Wendell’s mother asked, sensing his halting approach to the stockpile.

“I dunno. Maybe…” The thought got stuck in Wendell’s mind. He couldn’t think beyond the lack of wanting to open the presents. “Maybe, we could just take these to some kids who would want them.”