Fifth wheel, odd-man-out, hanger-on. She sat at the table while her friends danced, sipping her second Coke of the night. Why did she put herself through this? Her friends meant well, including her in their New Year's Eve plans, but she'd much rather be sitting home in fuzzy slippers watching the ball drop on TV.

She fished the skewered cherry from her glass and popped it into her mouth. The band began a new song and none of her friends rejoined her. She drummed her fingers on the table and tried not to look as forlorn as she felt. She should Uber home; nobody would be the wiser.

"Honey, can I get you something?" The waitress' voice oozed sympathy.

God, she was pathetic. "Sure. I'll have a dirty martini. Three olives, please." She smiled at the scantily clad girl, a glittery 2023 tiara sprouting from her hair. At least she didn't have to spend New Year's schlepping drinks for drunks, and she relished a moment of schadenfreude.

Another song began. This time a slow one. She forced a smile, pretending the memories didn't hurt, pretending she was having a good time, pretending he hadn't left her so alone. She was so engrossed in hiding her feelings, she didn't notice the man standing beside her until he tapped her shoulder.

"Would you like to dance?"

She opened her mouth to speak, to decline the offer, but the words wouldn't come. He was well-dressed, nice-looking, non-threatening.

"Come on." He grabbed her hand and tugged her from the chair. "It's almost midnight. We don't want to spend it alone."

The man could dance. She giggled and enjoyed the music, the sense of belonging. The band played an old rock 'n roll favorite, and he asked if she knew how to jitterbug. "Oh, yeah!" A crowd formed a ring around them and clapped to the beat. She spotted her friends cheering her on and the smile on her face was no pretense.

The man could laugh. He pulled her into his arms as 'Auld Lang Syne' began to play. They swayed to the music as the countdown began. Midnight.

The man could kiss, and kiss, and kiss.