And so here we are, officially in the new year. New Year’s Eve was never a big night to go out for me. Most new year’s were spent in front of the TV, more often than not alone. This year has been no different. But that’s not what this story is about, it’s about a couple years ago when I was in love with a girl.
When we first met we were both dating other people. It wasn’t until several years later that we were both single the same time. We spent a great deal of time together after that, and a couple of months later, on Thanksgiving, I told her I loved her and she said it back. For a couple days everything seemed perfect. Then it got weird. She lived in Florida and I had been there for awhile, but planned to move back to Chicago. One night I took her out to a nice dinner, during which she was cold, distant. I tried to talk to her but got no clear answers. I told her I was going to go back home, but that I would fly back for new year’s eve to see her, hoping she would be able to figure out what she wanted by then. She said okay, promising we would talk.
After a couple weeks back in Chicago, I flew back to Florida. A friend of ours agreed to throw a new year’s eve party where the two of us could meet up. On the flight down I had thought she was it and intended to propose to her at midnight. She never showed at the party, giving a weak excuse.
Needless to say, everything fell apart. I did what I always do – write a story. So here’s a new year’s story inspired by all that, it’s called Flight 1872 (transcribed).
Cheers. Here’s to 2013 and all the stories yet to be told.