7:15 p.m. The center atrium at the mall. A large, temporary structure houses “The North Pole”, an ad-hoc collection of holiday lights and fake snow. Rob weaves his way past a “Closed” sign, through the short maze where a line usually forms, and pokes his head behind the curtain. ROB: Mall Santa? MALL SANTA: You must be Ron? R: Actually, it’s Rob. MS. Come on in. Rob enters “The North Pole”. Santa sits on his chair, exhales a large sigh, and takes a long pull from his eggnog. R: Long day, Mall Santa? MS. They’re all long now, Rod. R:...

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