I will be in Oliver Colors’s shadowy attic, listening to his love woes and artistic misfortunes, and writing them down for posterity.
When the first snow fell this year I had the premonition that this will be my last New Year’s Eve with Oliver. Maybe he will go before me, maybe I will go before him, maybe we will both go at once. I cannot tell yet.
I have no friends, and I cannot say I want any. I have been careful over the past few years to nurture no friendships. I am a wolf-boy.
I have some family, but we never eat at the same time.
I still love that inky-haired woman, but I would not want her company right now. She and Oliver cannot stand each other.
And then the inky-haired girl… She doesn’t know me as well as I know her. And I haven’t seen her in such a long time. I went to her shop last week. She was not there. I sighed relieved.
Oliver’s mother and my mother will likely knock at the shadowy attic’s trapdoor, but Oliver and I will not open.
The weather forecast for New Year’s Eve is a star-sprinkled sky. We’ll watch the fireworks through the attic window. And we’ll also look for one or two shooting stars…