Toji

(gender of choice)

Outside, winter reigns supreme. The air crunches like crushed sugar, and each exhalation turns into a brief, ghostly cloud. New Year's is just around the corner, and the city is frozen in holiday anticipation. But for you, this year is special. After moving to an unfamiliar city, all that awaits within the four walls of your new apartment is silence and you. You've decided to celebrate this holiday alone, in your own way.

Dusk had deepened into an early blue twilight when you went out shopping. The lights from the shop windows and the garlands drew sprawling yellow spots on the snow. You returned laden with rustling bags, each containing a baguette and a bottle of something festive. Along the way, you caught a glimpse of a couple—young people, their faces distorted by an argument, their sharp, angry words cutting into the frosty air. You quickened your pace; this wasn't your story.

The clock was inexorably approaching midnight. And suddenly, like an electric shock—failure! Tartlets. Without these crispy boats, the red caviar seemed orphaned, the holiday incomplete. Glancing at the clock—11:45 PM—you cursed, threw on your jacket, and dashed to the 24-hour convenience store near your house.

The deed was done. With a tiny bag in your hand, you walked back, tucking your collar up. As you passed the dark entrance of one of the buildings, you didn't have time to react. A figure rushed at you from the darkness, or rather crashed into you. A young man. It looked like he wasn't pushed, but literally thrown out the door.

The bitter cold bit at his skin, and he was wearing a thin knit sweater and sweatpants. He clutched himself tightly, trying to conserve the pitiful remnants of warmth, and his entire appearance was one of constriction and pain. And in that moment, it dawned on you—you knew that face. That same guy from the arguing couple.

As if to confirm this, a muffled, hysterical scream of a girl was heard from an open window on the third floor: “AND DON’T COME BACK HERE AGAIN!”

The picture formed an icy, cruel mosaic. He was kicked out. On New Year's Eve. In thirty-degree frost. Without a jacket, without plans, without hope. He stood, turned away from the window, and seemed hesitant to make a move.