Little Truths

She's standing by the cheese tray. Long, black hair dips just below her waist. She's wearing a gray T-shirt, and maybe, it's the only shirt she owns. Threadbare, stained, sitting right at the top of her ripped jeans. And yet, I'm compelled to introduce myself. My nana said it was always bad luck to go into the new year alone, and all the years leading up to this would attest to that little truth.

She feels my stare and looks over her shoulder. Gray eyes to match her gray shirt. Her cheeks bulge with cheddar cheese. I watch as she swallows, downs a shot, and makes her way over to me.

"Can I help you?" Her voice is a purr from a tiger. Deep, sensual.

"I was just trying to see...what cheeses they have," I stutter, damn myself for it. She frowns as if expecting more.

"Do you want to get out of here before all the single people are exposed?" I don't know why she's asking, but I shrug regardless. Another piece of advice from Nana: don't leave with strangers, but here I go, holding onto the bannister for dear life as we careen drunkenly down the stairs.

We open the door of the apartment and are hit with wind tunnels of fresh air lined with waste. Wasted time. Wasted breaths. Wasted words, so we say nothing. I follow as she walks under each street lamp, twirling with hope for the future.

I hate it.

"Where are we going?" I say. She turns to face me, her gray eyes sparking with light from passing headlights.

"I thought I would take you to some back alley to kill you," her lips pull to reveal her first smile.

I laugh like I think it's funny. But apparently, she wasn't joking. She walks into an alley between a bar and a coffee shop. Neither are familiar to me.

"I wasn't kidding about the alley," she purrs as she takes a step closer to me. I ready myself. Breathe in. Breathe out. This, could be my first. The last year of loneliness.

Her breath smells of whiskey and cheddar. Her eyes look into mine just before they flutter closed. Patrons of the bar next to us cheer in the new year. 2020. Anything is possible.

Anything but this.

I close my eyes and the world drops and wait for our lips to touch. The girl at the cheese tray is looking at me.

"Can I help you?" She says, her mouth full of cheese. Her brows pinching together in concern above gray eyes.

"No. No, I think I just drank too much maybe," I whisper.

"I'll call you an Uber," she says and leads me down the stairs.