The Vanishing Hour

She vanished just as the year ended. The fireworks in the night sky blazed in vibrant reds and golds, a celebration of new beginnings, yet for Will, the colors blurred as tears filled his eyes. The crowd in the square cheered, couples kissed, and strangers exchanged wishes for a brighter year, but he stood frozen, staring at the empty space where Lily had been just moments before.

She had been holding his hand, her fingers icy despite the thick gloves. They’d been talking about their resolutions—hers to learn French, his to finally take that photography trip to Iceland—when her voice caught mid-sentence. He’d turned to find her gazing over his shoulder, her wide brown eyes fixed on something he couldn’t see. Then, without a word, she let go of his hand and stepped backward into the mist that had inexplicably rolled in from the riverbank.