Sasha’s dilated, bloodshot pupils remained fixed on the flashing TV screen. Sasha hadn’t moved for hours. He’d watched distant and detached as an endless carousel of colourful commentators welcomed in the new millennium. From Dunedin to Delaware, the world had moved from old into new. Crackling fireworks, cheering, happy smiling faces: revelers looking forward with hope. Sasha hadn’t looked forward with hope in such a long time.
The once groaning heap between Sasha and the TV now lay silent. Rivulets of crimson no longer dribbled across the slate floor.
‘Happy New Year, Sasha,’ he whispered, while raising the glass to his lips.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.