The clock ticks down.
He’s shouldering through the crowd, trying to find her. Faces half-seen, hair swinging in the cold air, a shift, a smile – he sees her a thousand times, but she’s never really there.
He wants to tell her he loves her. He has to be there at midnight.
Ten, nine, eight.
She’s not here. He can’t find her.
Seven, six, five.
Then she’s there, at the railing, her head tilted up, the light shining in her eyes.
Four, three, two.
He’s too far. The crowd closes around him, their voices rising. She’s just out of reach.