Nine Fingers, Same Bad Decisions

New Year’s Eve always starts the same. Cheap fireworks. Bad decisions. Someone saying,

“Trust me, I’ve done this before.” Midnight hits. The countdown reaches zero.

Fireworks explode. People scream. Champagne flies. And then— Kyle pulls out the

firework. Not a sparkler. Not a fountain. No. This thing looks

like it was smuggled out of a war zone. Everyone yells “DON’T,” but Kyle already lit it.

There’s half a second of silence. The kind where the universe inhales. BOOM.

The firework launches straight into the sky. Kyle launches backward. And his hand… does

not attend the New Year. No blood. Just shock. A glove landing