Here I am looking like an idiot with a party hat atop my head, a blower in my hand, dressed in my new fitted black dress, as if waiting for him to celebrate with me in ringing in the new year. The finest champagne bottle of Cristal Rose 1996 sits in a bucket of ice along with two chilled wine glasses. It's always been a yearly ritual with us making sure we'd always be together on new year's eve, no matter where we were. He'd always find the time, even if it was only for the last twenty seconds of the old year, just as long as I'd be in his arms as the clock struck midnight into the new year.
He'd look at his watch and start the countdown out loud, which always made me laugh, then he'd turn me around, pull me into him, run his fingers through my hair and gently and lovingly kiss me.
"You think you could bear another year with me," he'd always ask teasingly. "I'll never let you go," I'd answer him.
It would be a miracle if he walked through those doors at this very minute. It's fifteen seconds until midnight...ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. I hold my breath.
And he's not here.
