Until Next Year

“As much fun as this was, thank god that it’s over,” she says with a slight smile, and downs the rest of his drink. Right as she finishes speaking, the sun behind her finally falls beneath the long horizon, and the night begins to darken.

Her eyes flash for a moment in the light, drawing his gaze back across the table, but it’s only one of the pendants that usually rests in her hair. She’s pulled it forward, so that it now lies across her face, and she’s going slightly cross eyed in the effort to keep it in sight. They both stay sitting like that for a minute, or maybe longer, in perfect equilibrium, before the last rays of the day begin to fade.

He reaches across the table to grab her glass. “Until next year then?” he asks, nearly too quietly to be heard over the rising din.

“Until next year.”

She sets the charm on the table, and its light slowly fades.

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