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121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW8OJvcsLx7
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I121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIG5mGwGQrN
121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGPbIHhEEym
”Should auld acquaintance be forgot,121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi1Pgihrt0H
and never brought to mind?121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡONH2sETwI5
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡopsT5czhy0
and auld lang syne?”
121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡutDOnXGMWG
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.121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdaZSPVIt0j
121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXSd45KN0My
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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