Breathe.
Prologue
Prologue . . .
We looked out our windows with high anticipation for the future. What opportunities we had to look forward to. Entering high school, going to college, getting a job and still living in the Empire State.
The lights were flashing colors and white. Tourists hit the flash on their cameras to take pictures of couples kissing, the hustle and bustle, and all of the eager faces for the future. We looked down on it all from our windows, feeling the same breeze as the people below but without all of the loud noises.
The crystals of the giant ball on the pole shone with glory and pride. The lights were starting to come on, making the clearness go from pink, to blue, to green. People cheered and laughed as the clock ticked closer to midnight. Smiles shone as brightly as the stars in the countryside, and the roaring of the crowd grew louder with each tick. The music of street artists and the number one selling songwriters fought hard to beat the crowds unhushed excitement.
And as the final evening grew shorter and the clock struck five minutes until a new beginning, everything ended in one sound.
boom . . .
We looked out our windows with high anticipation for the future. What opportunities we had to look forward to. Entering high school, going to college, getting a job and still living in the Empire State.
The lights were flashing colors and white. Tourists hit the flash on their cameras to take pictures of couples kissing, the hustle and bustle, and all of the eager faces for the future. We looked down on it all from our windows, feeling the same breeze as the people below but without all of the loud noises.
The crystals of the giant ball on the pole shone with glory and pride. The lights were starting to come on, making the clearness go from pink, to blue, to green. People cheered and laughed as the clock ticked closer to midnight. Smiles shone as brightly as the stars in the countryside, and the roaring of the crowd grew louder with each tick. The music of street artists and the number one selling songwriters fought hard to beat the crowds unhushed excitement.
And as the final evening grew shorter and the clock struck five minutes until a new beginning, everything ended in one sound.
boom . . .