Stevie was hacking straggly branches off the Christmas tree with a bread knife when he got the idea. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and yelped as the tree sap stung. He jumped up from the floor, knife in hand, and ran to the bathroom to rinse his eyes. He leaned on the sink, looking down at the knife, then blinked red eyes at the mirror. Water ran. The idea had gone.