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199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5WCUFsS4AK
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I199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI1uCLRg4vr
199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI6ORt47kD9
”Should auld acquaintance be forgot,199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNhLyRcYH4w
and never brought to mind?199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPQPHGeCb1k
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqMiw8hp3X1
and auld lang syne?”
199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡad5l9lvYk5
Twelve times the old hall clock bonged, each sound striking closer to the awaited hour. Midnight. Jessica Martell’s sad sapphire eyes turned toward it and a tear slid down her cheek slowly. She swiped it away before anyone could notice. In the crowded room, someone laughed loudly. A party horn blew followed by more laughter. The Philco radio played the opening bars of that same old tune.199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjOLaBVNuBq
199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyllrCASIr4
The year turned from the old to the new once again. One year out, another one in. Jessica frowned. Behind her, the celebration roared to life again. More party horns blew, and someone called for a toast. Around her, arms lifted champagne glasses.
Suddenly Jessica longed for solitude. Bowing her head, she strode onto the balcony with her champagne flute. The party sounds followed her outside. Reaching out, she pulled the French doors closed. She sighed and leaned forward against the wrought iron banister. The glass in her hand tipped, releasing a few drops of the bubbly wine.
Jessica looked downward, her long blonde hair streaming around her. The sidewalk looked small, almost doll-sized below her. A couple lingered near a lamppost then staggered around the corner. She watched them longingly, wishing and hoping for something she could never have again.
The air froze and snowflakes drifted around her. Jessica wished she had brought her wrap outdoors. The cold penetrated her spaghetti strap black dress on the first January morning of the new year. Still, she had no wish to return to the warm party indoors.
“Jeremy.” Jessica muttered, twirling her champagne flute in her icy fingers. “I love you. Where are you?”
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