new year's eve

He needed this. He needed to visit the old haunts to figure out what haunted him. So, he came, last night, and flopped into a warm bed after a long, quiet, four-hour drive. It was snowing, now, but instead of bringing that feeling of a winter’s warmth, it just made everything feel so much colder. He pulled his cap down lower over his eyes; he needed to hide his eyes. They never lied for him and he didn’t want to chance it -- chance it that he would meet someone he knew and they would see inside to the hurt, damaged places. The hat would do it. It had cost him $12, on sale from $20. It was a small price to pay for protection. He headed toward his car, across the walk, across the street. No one was watching, he could see that, but he felt everyone looking. A gust of wind. A swirl of snow. Two kids came out of the dining hall, faces painted, part of the New Year’s Eve activities. He climbed into his car, watched them pass by, hand in hand, then backed out carefully. It was only 4 p.m.; he had eight more hours to while away until the new year. He started to drive, hoping to get lost. One of the kids, one of the face-painted kids, stood at the side of the road and waved to him, mistaking him for someone else. He thought for a moment, then waved back. It was the right thing to do. He was big on doing the right thing.