happy new years, kid.

it smells of cheap beer and good people. confetti litters the floor, and there's 27 seconds left. he's drunk, but trying to contemplate his new year. elbows bumping, someone's laughing right in his ear, and the girl to his left annouces that she has to "fucking piss right now damnit!" he paid $30 for his tie and some girl he never really met was walking around wearing it, but all he really wanted was something to look forward to. 12 seconds left. people were counting, and he took another swig. gripping the plastic horn even tighter, he closed his eyes to concentrate. 8 seconds. the room was crowded and he felt small beads of sweat gliding towards the small of his back. he needed some resolution, some fresh start, some clean slate, some goddamn initiative to get his ass moving. unemployed, single, and nearing thirty, he had better think fast. 3 seconds. he opened his eyes to see the ball drop, racking his brain as if his life depended on it. as if the 50 or so people in this room were to hold to him accountable at 12:01 and begin judgement. 2. it's down to the wire, and people are already cheering and making out in the corner. 1. the girl to his left pissed her pants probably due to sheer excitement or the fact that she couldn't clear a path to the restroom, and while he saw the ball drop, he merely took one last gulp from his bottle and remembered that there's always next year.