It is just after midnight. A new year. Leaning out the window, I notice that the air in the alley smells the same as last year. Looking up into the black sky, the fireworks diminished and the stars blotted blind by the city lights, I realize that this year will not feel real until the earth has finished turning, because somewhere, back where friends and family gather under the afternoon sun, the day has not yet ended and the calendar has yet to roll over.
Published by Samuel Snoek-Brown
I write fiction and teach college writing and literature. I'm the author of the story collection There Is No Other Way to Worship Them, the novel Hagridden, and the flash fiction chapbooks Box Cutters and Where There Is Ruin. View more posts