Snow | Steve Denehan

New Year’s Eve. The worst night of the year.
Twinkling lights, clinking glasses.
I don’t care.
It is hot and there are too many people.
My face finally rebels and will no longer smile.
My laugh, despite my efforts, is hollow.
We count down and bells ring.
One day becomes another.
Everything changes.
Everything stays the same.
Duty done I take advantage of the noise and slip away.
I emerge into a side street, dark, cold and quiet.
I smile at the falling snow.
Before walking away, I close my eyes and look upward.
The snow falls on my face.
Each flake on my cheek a cold kiss unrealised.