I am a writer. I write; that's what I do for a living. That's my life.

January 1, 2016

12:00 am

"Happy new year!" She screams into my ear as a kaleidoscope of fireworks wrinkle the sky with a festive blur of yellows, reds, and blues. Elated voices applause for new beginnings while punches of music drift over the swaying crowd. Belongings are tossed into the air like batons. Hands meet backs and shoulders meet shoulders in a mutual celebration of the first day of the year. Tangled upon striking the sum of 12, I return her sparkling jubilee and shout, "I love you, Song Dohee!" and kiss her lips, her lips, her lips, over and over again until midnight becomes a number, January becomes a month, and 2015 becomes the past.

"Stop!" She laughs against my neck. "I think we've been caught," she points to a man with a video camera in his hands. We see our faces projected on a screen right above our heads. I wave, and the clip changes to an overhead shot of the shimmering masses.

"Is your new year's resolution to be more outgoing?" She asks.

"I don't make resolutions. I make destinations."

"Yeah? And what's your destination this year, Kim Jongin?"

With a lingering kiss, I whisper, "Reality."

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"Taxi!"

The gray cab harshly comes to a stop as I risk one foot onto the road. Throwing the door open, I leap onto the backseat as the driver admonishes me with a polite yet frank "Sir, are you crazy?"

"Sorry" Is my answer. "I'm in a hurry and I wanted to make sure you'd see me."

My humor loses it's charm as the driver pulls from the curb with a mumbling sentiment about lunatics. Caused by the sudden acceleration of the car, my manuscripts fly from beneath my arm like the insides of a battered piñata. My desperate, gleeful hands shoot forward to own the prize. The papers fit perfectly into my folder, and like savory candy on a child's tongue, they are a feast for my eyes.

"I have to bring the final copy to my editor. He wants me to present it."

He sizes me from my wide reflection in the rear view mirror. "You work with Town Publications?"

"Yes."

"I think I've driven you there before."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're that guy who always has that 'mad scientist' hair. Look like one, too, with the papers you bring and all."

I laugh. "The suit negates the madness, though, doesn't it?"

"Is that a popular look these days?"

"I have someone I want to impress." I try to secure the tie, but it falls limp in my hands. Using the rearview mirror, I lead the tie-rabbit around the tree. "She likes this sort of thing. Black and white, suit and tie."

As is common with strangers, we sit in silence. I scan my manuscript and recite what I plan to expound in my power point while outside, the sunrise paints smudges of pinks and blues on the window. The cab stops. Beside me are the entrance doors to Town Publications. Life travels quickly when one is living in an alternate universe.

"Good luck on your presentation." He takes my cash, and I salute him with an over payment. I run inside the building while securing the tie to my neck.

"Mr. Kim!"

"I know!" I run past the front desk attendant. "I'm late!"

"The elevator is broken!" She yells.

I halt and spin my heels the other way. "Got it. Thanks!"

Careful not to trip, I skip the stairs at an even pace. I burst into what I think is an empty hallway, but then Dohee steps out from the concave of the wall. She untangles the silk snake from my neck and twists nimble magic from her fingers.

"Why are you wearing this?"

"You like it when I dress formal."

"Everyone else will want to know if you're sick. What happened to the Jongin who works in sweatpants?"

"He wanted to look good for his girlfriend."

"You only look good because I help you choose your clothes." She adjusts the tie and straightens my collar. "Look at this hair."

"I'm handsome, right?"

She punches my chest affectionately. "Get in there before I kill you."

"Sure thing," I say and lead her into the room by hand. She tries to wriggle away fro