The Kiss at Midnight

Published on: January 1st, 2025

Feeling Alone

Doug pulled his jacket tighter against the biting wind that cut through the New Year's Eve morning. The cold stung his face, accentuating the slight redness of his nose and cheeks. His dark, unruly hair peeked out from under a knit cap, and his glasses fogged briefly with every exhale. He wasn’t particularly tall or broad, but the way he hunched his shoulders against the cold made him seem smaller, almost like he was trying to disappear into himself. The memories gnawed at him, sharper than the wind.

Around him, the streets buzzed with life, a stark contrast to the emptiness he carried. Groups of friends spilled out of cafes, their laughter curling like smoke in the icy air. Couples strolled hand in hand, their closeness a sharp reminder of his solitude. Families towed children bundled in puffy coats, their cheerful chatter a world away from his reality. Doug moved through it all like a ghost, unseen and untouched. Another year had slipped away, leaving him more certain than ever that he was truly alone.

The sting of it was sharper this time, worsened by the parade of memories he couldn’t escape—the relationship that ended just as he thought it might become something real, the countless dating app conversations that fizzled before they began, and the nagging fear that maybe he wasn’t meant to find someone at all. The weight of missed chances pressed heavily on him, a constant reminder of what he yearned for but could never seem to grasp.

Doug needs coffee

He stepped into the warm haven of the donut shop, the smell of freshly baked goods wrapping around him like a long-lost embrace. The place was small but cheerful, with a glowing neon sign that read, "Start Your Day Sweetly." Doug ordered his usual—a black coffee and two glazed donuts. As he paid, he stepped back without looking, trying to get out of the way of the growing line.

A soft gasp followed by a bump jolted him out of his thoughts. He spun around, his coffee sloshing precariously in its cup, and found himself face to face with a woman. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or the collision, he couldn't tell. She had auburn hair tucked under a knit hat and piercing green eyes that looked both surprised and amused.

"Oh, I—I'm so sorry!" Doug stammered, his ears burning. He reached out instinctively, steadying her by the arm.

She laughed lightly, a sound that felt like sunshine breaking through the gloom. She had a habit of tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear when she smiled, a subtle gesture that somehow made her seem even more genuine. "It's okay. I wasn't paying attention either."

"No, really, I—" Doug paused, realizing he was still holding her arm. He dropped it quickly. "I didn’t mean to…"

"Spill your coffee on me?" she teased, glancing at the cup in his hand.

"Uh, yeah. Thankfully, I didn’t. Small victories."

She smiled, a wide, genuine grin that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Well, thank you for not scalding me. I'm Jennifer, by the way."

"Doug. Nice to meet you, Jennifer."

"Likewise." She nodded toward the counter. "You’re brave to venture out for donuts today. This place is chaos."

Doug chuckled nervously. "It’s tradition. Can’t start the last day of the year without my sugar fix."

"Good tradition," she said. "I might steal it."

Before he knew it, they were chatting like old friends. They stood by the counter long after the line had dwindled, talking about everything from their favorite childhood memories to their mutual dislike of New Year's resolutions. Jennifer described how her grandmother used to bake pies from scratch, teaching her the art of patience and precision in the kitchen, a skill she still cherished. Doug shared how his dad’s love for woodworking had inspired him to build his own furniture, though most pieces leaned more “abstract” than practical. Their stories intertwined, revealing shared values of creativity and family, and deepening the connection between them with each passing word. Jennifer’s laugh was contagious, her presence magnetic. For the first time in years, Doug felt…hopeful.

As noon approached, Jennifer glanced at her watch. "I hate to cut this short, but I have to get going. I’m meeting some friends later for a party."

Doug’s stomach sank. "Oh, yeah, of course."

She hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, but instead smiled warmly. "It was really nice talking to you, Doug."

"You too," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. And then she was gone, the bell above the door jingling faintly in her wake.

The worst feeling ever

It wasn’t until he was halfway home that he realized he’d forgotten to ask for her phone number. Panic set in. How could he let this slip through his fingers? He considered going back to the donut shop but dismissed the idea as foolish. She was gone, and he’d probably never see her again.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Doug wandered aimlessly through the city, weaving through crowded streets where strangers' laughter rang out like a cruel taunt. He stopped at a park bench, watching as children played on a snowy patch, their joy contrasting sharply with his own hollow feeling. He wandered into a bookstore, thumbing through titles he had no intention of reading, just to pass the time. The hours slipped by, the city's festive energy amplifying his sense of being untethered, like a balloon drifting further and further from reach. Doug wandered aimlessly through the city, the festive atmosphere mocking his melancholy. He found himself standing outside a small bar as the evening descended. The neon sign flickered, promising warmth and distraction. He stepped inside.

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Doug slid onto a stool and ordered a whiskey. The first sip burned, but it dulled the edges of his disappointment. Drink after drink, he tried to shake the thought of Jennifer—her laugh, her smile, the way she’d made him feel alive for the first time in years.

A lonely countdown

As midnight approached, the crowd grew rowdier. The bartender handed out party hats and noisemakers. Doug stayed seated, his head bowed, lost in a swirl of thoughts. He replayed the morning at the donut shop, kicking himself for not asking Jennifer for her number. The memory of her laugh lingered, a bittersweet echo in his mind. What if she was the one, and he had let her slip away? The countdown buzzed faintly in the background, but Doug barely registered it. He was trapped in a loop of regret and longing, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass as he stared into the amber liquid, searching for answers that weren’t there.

"Ten…nine…"

The entire bar joined in, voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus.

"Eight…seven…"

Doug turned from the bar, his gaze scanning the room. People were laughing, hugging, cheering. He felt like an outsider, standing at the edge of the world.

"Six…five…"

A blur of motion caught his eye. A woman was spinning around, her hair catching the light like a halo.

"Four…three…"

Their eyes locked. Time seemed to stop.

"Two…one…"

Happy!.... Jennifer?

It was Jennifer. Her eyes widened in surprise, then softened with recognition and joy. A slow smile spread across her face, and she let out a breathless laugh, as if the sheer coincidence of finding him again was too good to be true. Before he could say a word, she closed the distance between them, her hands cupping his face. Their lips met as the room erupted into cheers, confetti falling like snow. The kiss was warm, electric, everything Doug had ever dreamed of.