… New Year.
There is a sudden, booming silence.
His hand’s just inches from her. In the stillness, he can see the snow drops half-melted on her shoulder. “You should’ve been here,” she says, without turning to look.
“I know,” he says.
“You weren’t. You never were.”
“I know I wasn’t. But I tried. Now I can’t be anywhere else.”
She almost says she’s sorry, he thinks, or that she loves him. She almost turns. He hopes. The whole world holds its breath. A million eyes stare.
And then the clock ticks forward, and she’s gone, but for the taste of snow.