It was New Year's Eve.
We had planned to celebrate the night. You would bring me to the garden where other patients would be. Everyone will be counting down together, you had assured me, bundling me up for the cold.
When the doors opened, the familiar gust of wind knocked me out again. "I could never get used to this," I said, rubbing my hands together. You laughed, pushing me into the garden.
"Here for the countdown?" Someone asked, in which you replied with a laugh.
"It's her first time," you said, tapping me gently on the shoulder.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Two more minutes. I'll let you know when it's time." I could hear you lock the wheelchair in place and move to be beside me. I guessed that you were crouching down, for your breath was extremely close to mine. You smelled like vanilla.
I reached my hand towards you. You took it after much deliberation, but when you did, our fingers intertwined. "Wait for it," you said.
We waited.
"It's time!" You signalled, tightening the grip on my hand.
"Five!"
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Two!"
"One!"
"Happy new year!"
Just as fireworks erupted into the sky, you loosened the grip on my hand.
Shivers went down my spine as a loud, piercing cry filled the night sky.
YOU ARE READING
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Short StoryAt 00:00, Cinderella ran away from her prince, leaving a glass slipper on the marbled steps of the grand staircase. At 00:00, I ran away from him. Unlike Cinderella, I didn't leave a single thing behind. © sonderingly
