The engine turned over at last, proceeded by a hoarse round of cheers. The New Year had come and gone huddled in the back of the old Honda, a burbling hookah and a crushed pack of old cigarettes (Quit smoking or quit buying, eh?) our only source of warmth. Our passing savior and her oversized sedan packed with bleary-eyed children led to a singed blanket as we hid our sinful ways from the eyes of the virtuous, but a mild car fire and the loss of a little of the dark leaf shisha (Hey hey hey!) might be worth the rescue. We pulled our scarves together, wet with stale breath and smelling of long-lost college years and kissed belatedly our last year goodbye. For our driver, an extra kiss – for bringing us so far to nowhere, only to take us home again, smiling nonetheless.
Gently the snow falls,
Erasing the old footpath,
Make old journeys new.
Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Celebration” as part of their Haibun Monday Series, celebrating the New Year.