… 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.


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