Auld Lang Syne

Bianca adjusted the strap of her dress (black, knee-length, a world away from the flashy numbers she'd worn on New Years past) and inwardly cringed. This was like, six degrees of separation away from a high school reunion. Of course, Toronto was like that: those who left rarely stayed gone.

Normally, Bianca would spend the evening drinking champagne from a sippy cup while her kids tried and failed to stay up and alert past eight o'clock. This year, Jackson was at a sleep over, and Elena was visiting her father. This year, Adam Torres had asked her out.

Cursing the familiar faces all around her (who would sooner or later feel compelled to approach her and engage in small talk), Bianca glared around the bar. Either Adam was late or he was playing hard to get. Or possibly plotting something involving bad puns. Regardless, he better have planned on buying at least two of her drinks.