I walk mostly aimlessly through the city—it is beautiful, sure, but all I can see is him. It’s nearly the new year, and I do not want to spend New Year’s Eve alone in a dingy hotel room sipping prosecco nor vodka. It’s all planned out in my head, our first New Year’s together. I look stunning, for once, in a little nothing of a dress. Burgundy, maybe. My hair is pulled back, the way he likes it. He’s wearing the shirt I bought him for his birthday a month ago and as everyone begins counting down to 2012, he pops a bottle of champagne and we duck outside. The din grows quieter. 6…5…4… He pulls me close and my body goes weak, I’m so happy. 3…2…1… He kisses me: A long, lovely kiss, better than any in the movies. Wow, I say.
I don’t think anything could be more lovely.
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