I feel I need to preface this story with a few explanations behind both the content and brevity of this piece. I originally came up with the idea when I was about 14 and babysitting a 9-year-old on New Year's Eve, but every time I tried to replicate the immense isolation I felt at that time, it didn't work. Then came the failed romantic interest over the summer; I really needed to let go of some pent-up feelings and came up with this.
I ended up writing this for a Creative Writing class and the word count was supposed to be around 500 words, with no more than 600.

Elephant

You hear a masculine voice proclaiming the end of something special, and you agree. The room is filled with ignorant bodies: blank, expectant, excited. A sweet stench makes you wrinkle your nose; it smells toxic, though it can't really be because no one else seems to mind. The host hands you a smooth, cool glass filled with bubbling liquid. You swirl it around in your hand, watching the effervescence dispense noxious fumes into the atmosphere. You must have murmured 'Thank you,' because he leaves you alone to stew in your revulsion.

He doesn't mind the nauseating beverage, so you try to force yourself to smile. It doesn't work, he's still ignoring you. He places a reassuring arm around her. This time you're not sure whether the urge to vomit is from the alcohol or your own voyeurism.

In front there is an iridescent sphere, brighter than the sun and older than time. It radiates the past year, giving you the feeling of sardonic excitement. Everything was rotten: the people, the liquid, the year.

For this one moment, you can feign happiness. Despite him and his evident ability to move on with his life, you won't allow your plaster mask to disintegrate. No one seems to be paying any attention, so you must be doing something right. He laughs at something she's told him; your smile cracks.

"5."

He told you afterwards that he never liked you blindly following him around on a leash and wagging your tail at every errant thought he had. Instead, he wags his tail, content to sit in her purse as she strolls down a boulevard.

"4."

You were reminded of the story of the three blind men examining an elephant and deducing from their narrow perspectives three completely different objects. You vainly hoped he just needed time to view the big picture of your relationship.

"3."

He might still just need time. At some point he must connect that dry, rugged hose, the supple, delicate fans, and the sturdy trunks to make an ageless, docile creature. Next time, you'll be the one feeling those moist, salty lips upon your own.

"2!"

Then he met her, the girl who was everything you're not. The crack in your smile deepens, forming an invisible fault. He'll kiss her when the ball drops, you know it.

"1!"

Several tributary branches have formed and your smile shatters completely. Once again, you have no one to celebrate with and nothing to celebrate anyway. It shouldn't matter as much that way, should it? Maybe he won't kiss her.

"Happy New Year!"

He kisses her. You knew it would happen; you shouldn't feel this heartbroken. It isn't as though he broke up with you yesterday, after all. But feelings like these don't just disappear overnight. They lie dormant until you see him again, wrapping their eager tentacles around your torso, sucking all the life out of your willpower.

Moisture accumulates around your eyes as you realize that he isn't the blind man; you're just an invisible elephant. They all chose his side but refused to give up pretenses of affection. Instead, here you stand, a friend to the partygoers in name only, an awkward unresolved tension.

You drink the absinthe in your hand. There's no going back now.

You know what sucks? Standardized testing.
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-Crick