“Where did we put those champagne glasses?” Sean asked from the kitchen.
“Try the cupboard above the fridge,” Brawnie replied from the living room couch, where he was sprawled out watching the ten o’clock news.
The eve of the new year had begun with a strange winter rain, that late in the day became sleet, then showers of snow. The sky seemed a gray fleece blanket above flakes weightless in white spacesuits floating slowly down in calm air. The roads and walks were so dangerously iced many wisely decided to stay safely indoors.
The midnight toasts were possibly a bit tipsy.
“No more Christmas until next August!”
“Huck the folidays!”
“May you let your chest hair grow out, muscle boy.”
“And may you chuck your pile of old running shoes.”
Several hours after midnight, Sean and Brawnie were asleep together on the couch, covered by their faded Packers blanket. The room was dark, except for the Twilight Zone marathon on television. An empty bottle of Prosecco and two fancy glasses stood sentry on the coffee table before them.
Outside, galaxies of starflakes gathered under streetlamps on a cold, arbitrarily named night that was beautiful to behold.
Copyright 2019 by Brian Dean Powers
Photo by Catherine Zaidova at unsplash.com