1/1/06

There are ten seconds left of 2005. The countdown to 2006 begins. You rush to get champaign from the bar as the crowd gathers. The countdown reaches six! and you're not back. The numbers continue to cascade. Why so fast? Slow it down, asshole. M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I- three! M-I-S-S-I two! M-I one! "Happy New Year!" I shout and hug the others. I turn around. You are elbowing through the crowd, a plastic flute in each hand, both half empty. Your wide eyes shift, quick and hurried. Faker. You missed it. You did not stand next to me.