She downs the one swallow of champagne in her glass, and it's sweet and cold and tastes like a promise of a second chance.

All around her people are singing, most of them faking most of the lyrics -- though not too far from her Seth is standing with one hand over his heart in an absurd and rather beautiful pose, as though singing the national anthem, and enunciating every word: "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?..."

Oh god yes, she hears herself think in painful hope. Yes, please and thank you god, okay?

And since almost nobody knows the words, they probably don't notice her deliberate variation when she opens her mouth to join in the singing: "Let auld acquaintance be forgot, and the days of auld lang syne."

Maybe there really is a chance. Maybe this year it'll be okay.