The kiss he gave me was the symbol of his love, his time, and his regret. His love was not
for himself but for me, of his time that he gave to me, and his regret that I was not his… yet. And
so the kiss was more than a simple joyous occasion for a new year but a promise he gave to me
that moment. A promise that holds so much more than a simple duty to do so but a promise to
be what he was not yet and a promise to be what he will be soon. While the fireworks beckoned
the many onto the sidewalk and the streets ablaze, we were alone on the balcony of his home.
The winter snow draped over the landscape and the bright lit lanterns dazzled in the streets.
The serenity of the time, lost in the moment, we were frozen on that balcony and only the heat
emanating from his hand on my skin kept the numbness away.
It was not until the first seed of sunlight on the horizon did we break our trance, the cold
winter breeze slowly dissipated into the shadows, and the crowd that was once alive and thriving
a few meters away was empty and scattered on the street. The flames that once glowed and
warded the dark have since faded into nothing but ashes and smolder; the rich scented stores and
restaurants that was filled with people, food, and laughter now empty and closed; the music that
once echoed and chimed through the long corridors of many rooms and festival centers have now
been replaced with the loud bombardment of janitor equipment and cleaners. And as if he knew
what was on my mind, he placed his hand once again on my cheek, the other on my hip and
said, “Just like this moment, this hour, this day, and just like a candle, the flame will flicker until
vanishing out of existence and out of our memories,” he paused. “I don’t want that, I don’t want
to go,” his voice breaking.
I placed my hand into his and whispered, “Then don’t… just… say it.” I waited for him
to look at me again but when he did his eyes turned dark, lost and filled with resentment.
“If this is fate’s cruel irony, I’d rather not play into its games,” he replied, his hand turned
and twisted into fists.
“Stop, fate is not part of this. It is our own fault, you can’t blame something that doesn’t
exist, “I retorted with the slightest hint of anger.
“Maybe it does and maybe it doesn’t but the outcome is still the same… I have to go.”
As he finished those words he let go of my hands and pushed me away, I stumbled back up.
“Why can’t you just stay?” I asked.
He turned, his back now facing me. “Because if I stay, I won’t leave.” He walked towards
“If you go, you can’t come back. I won’t accept you.” I bit my lip and waited for a
response. It felt like an eternity as the sun slowly crept up, peeping into our shadowy corner but
just as the sun finally crossed the boundary he turned back to face me.
“I’m not planning on coming back,” he replied and turned the knob on the door and left.