He sat at the bar rubbing a drink between his hands while another set of hands moved inexorably toward twelve. He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed, staring at the reflection in the mirror behind the brightly lit bottles, looking deep into the brown eyes that glared back at him.

"Ah, you great brute of a man. Here’s two coins for those eyes." He tossed back the last of the contents in the glass, then waved a hand in the air and pointed to the empty tumbler in front of him.

"Bless you, my friend," he said to the bartender who deposited another drink on the bar and passed without even a nod.

"Well now," he said aloud, but the din of the crowd slapped it back to his ears alone. "To this new year, and the disappointments and troubles it will bring. To the hearts that will break and to the lives that will stagger and disappear over the edge of tomorrow."

He took a long swallow of his drink, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"And to all the long and lonely nights, and the children never born, and the family never found."

He slid off the stool and stepped out into the night of falling snow. He turned up the collar of his coat and pushed his hands into its pockets.

A strain of "Auld Lang Syne" drifted onto the street as he walked away, his footprints filling with snow.