Toast to the Midnight.

America - 1962 - A time of great fear.

Unstained by the night sky, a man walks through New York fitted with a grey suit, untidy - just the way he liked it. Pocket watch reads half past eleven, as he walked on the carpets greeted outside the lobby doors.

"You're late? You're usually so very prompt in returning here Mr. Heller. As you doorman, I request you spare me a story."

"Nothing happened tonight Jeffrey. I just, got caught up in a few things. I don't have the time for this right now."

"Now now sir, you're tone seems frustrated. Yet, your face details itself with glee. The password is simple - what happened tonight?"

"I'm not so sure Jeffrey, but I know tomorrow's going to be a good day."

"And why is that Mr. Heller?"

"Because I kissed her goodnight."

The doors open wide and passing smiles were exchanged. The doorman closes the door, and leaves the man to his scrambling thoughts. The clicks of his heels reverberate across the hallway, suddenly muted to the ring of a bell. The rusty elevator doors screech closed as the slow ascent to the high rised apartments cast feelings of uncertainty. A lowly newspaper twitches in the corner next to the air duct stating - "15 Minutes to Midnight!" And with a sudden jolt, the lift comes to a halt, as the gates screech once more.

Thunderous footsteps greeted his path, as all else was still, fixed to their radios and televisions.

"..the evils of Communist..."

"..missile crisis could not be averted..."

"...it's the balance of power, them or U.S."

"...President Kennedy assures the people of America.."

"...EXCOM meeting in the Whitehouse was a waste of time!"

"...they are a bunch of lunatics! No Russian has the audacity to push the button!"

Keys chatter out of his pocket, fighting to be the next one on duty. They are sorted out, pushed to the side to find the one best fitting. The door creeps open.

Shadows made from the City Lights outside the windows welcome the man. But it is not home. The fridge, now littered with stale goods rotting in their cases, was left open bringing a chill to the back of his neck. It hums more comfortably now, sealed away and left to itself.

A bottle of fine brandy clinks upon the glass as it is poured whilst eyes watch over the City in pity. The pocket watch now reads five minutes to midnight, un-caring, so very calculated. The gears would keep turning, waiting for no one - but could be broken. Now falling off the balcony, the watch still ticks - but not after its last shattering moment - a sign it's not invincible.

The glass of liquid amber is lifted high, sitting next to the moon though the man's eyes. All that remained was the ring of the glass as it was sat upon the balcony's stone rails. The lights of the apartment then flickered and eased to remain lit - a woman stands idly by, eyes fixed on the startled man.

"I don't want to risk it James."

"Risk what? I abandoned you on top of those stairs! You should hate me!"

"For saving me the pain of loosing you?"

He exhales.

"For saving us both, Alice. We should not be so entwined with these petty feelings for one another."

"So what did I feel tonight? Rage? Frustration? No god damn it James I love you!"

Silence deafens the both of them. She slowly strides towards him.

"It was a kiss goodbye for a reason Alice. We both know what's about to happen."

"I don't care. Just please hold my hand once more."

Bright lights flash in the background, and the cool wind breeze turns into an inferno. The couple press their hands against each others, as they both turn to dust.

--

This came to me in a dream. I just had to fit it in History.

--

The mindless Ramblings of Symon M. Taylor.