It was the 31st of December.
The day the year dies.
I was at a party at my friend’s flat.
I wasn’t supposed to be there,
Nor were my friends.

Loud music filled the room,
They were dancing, jumping,
Howling and celebrating
– The past, The future, and everything in between.
Sometimes I wonder if only people would just drink more,
They might just love the other idiot
And treat them with ecstasy and care.
How lovely a place would the world then be?

The air was filled with merry cuss words and smoke.
It was half past eleven,
The room was now almost a booming rocket
About to take off to the new year’s moon.
But suddenly there was this weird feeling,
I think it was from my stomach,
I couldn’t hold it,
Not anymore.
I ran,
I ran out of the room and towards the terrace,
I tried to vomit,
Nothing came out.
I sat down.
My head was reeling.
With eyes half open I looked above.
There was a girl.
My presence was not known to her.
She was smoking a cigarette,
It was burnt up to the middle,
She was thin and was wearing
A hoodie and some loose pants.
Her skin tone was of the moist earth,
Her hair was untied.
And her brown eyes were divinely attached to the moon.
She was staring at it like her dead mother’s graveyard.
She took a deep puff.
There was no music in her ears,
No words in her mouth.
She exhaled.
The cold winter wind caressed her,
Her hair fluttered.
And for a slight fraction of a second,
I felt like I knew everything about her,
I felt like I knew her soul like I knew my own.
And the moment passed too quick.
It was almost 12.
I had to go.
I went down the stairs,
back to the room,
back to the party
back to people.