I opened my laptop one last time to check the router settings.
The scheduled shutdown was locked in.
The digital timer ticked down, synchronized perfectly with the national broadcast.
Through the window, I noticed the head caterer pull a small leather folio from his apron.
He approached Sarah, who was standing near the kitchen island with David and his parents.
The caterer tapped his watch, signaling that it was time to close out the final tab before the new year began.
I saw Sarah smile warmly, holding up a finger as she reached into her designer clutch.
She pulled out my silver credit card and handed it to him with a flourish.
The caterer nodded, taking the card over to his portable payment terminal resting on the dining table.
He began punching in the final numbers.
I knew that bill included hours of premium staff overtime and an unlimited top tier liquor package.
I stood up from my armchair and walked closer to the window, the warm mug of tea warming my hands.
The television screen in the main house displayed a massive digital clock.
11:58 p.m.
The guests were filling their glasses, laughing, hugging, and preparing for the climax of the night.
Sarah stood arm-in-arm with David’s mother, looking like she had conquered the world.
11:59 p.m.
The head caterer frowned, staring at his payment terminal.
He swiped the card a second time, then a third.
The guests began chanting, their voices echoing across the backyard.
“Happy New Year.”
The cheer erupted, muffled through the thick glass of my window.
Couples kissed.
Confetti fell.