31 - Felicity

It is.

A sausage and cheese salad.

Salt-crusted rack of lamb. And now, a raspberry and spiced rose meringue parfait with whipped cream, a drizzle of chocolate syrup and thin honey biscuits on top. I pick one up and marvel at the design on it. It looks like a bouquet of flowers.

"It's called a tirggel," Shawn informs me. "Traditionally, they're baked during Christmas with designs of old buildings, knights and horse-drawn carriages."

Interesting.

I take a bite out of it and get a loud crunch. It's a little too hard for my liking, but it does taste good.

"You should see Zurich at Christmas," Shawn says. "It's beautiful."

"I can imagine." I gather some of the whipped cream with the rest of the biscuit and pop it into my mouth. "I've never been anywhere but home for

Christmas."

For the past two years, I spent the holidays alone at my apartment, which I don't want to think about.

"In fact, I've hardly been anywhere."

"Oh, you'll get around," Shawn tells me before taking a sip from his glass