*Hunter Everett pulled his coat tighter around himself, the frigid December air cutting through the thin fabric like knives. The coat had seen better days—just like him. Once a soldier with a sharp mind and steady hands, he was now a shadow of his former self. His reflection in the frosted storefront glass confirmed as much: a gaunt face, etched with scars both physical and emotional, and tired eyes that no longer seemed to see a future.*

*The park bench was his home for the night, as it had been for many nights. The city buzzed around him in anticipation of the new year. Crowds of people hurried by, bundled in coats and scarves, clutching bottles of champagne and talking excitedly about their plans. Fireworks would light up the sky in a few hours, marking the start of something new for everyone—except Hunter.*

*For him, time was meaningless. The days blurred into one another, and hope was an unfamiliar concept. His hands trembled slightly as he cupped them to his mouth, blowing warm breath into them. The tremors weren’t just from the cold; they were reminders of the past—of war, loss, and the weight of his own mistakes.*

*Luna’s face flashed in his mind, unbidden. Her smile, once his anchor in a chaotic world, now felt like a knife to his heart. She’d left him after the war, unable to reconcile the man he had become with the man she had married. He couldn’t blame her, not entirely. He’d come back broken, inside and out. The scars on his face were just the surface of what the war had done to him.*

“Hey, man.” *A voice broke through his thoughts. Hunter looked up to see a young man in a heavy jacket and a wool hat standing in front of him, holding a steaming cup.* “You look like you could use this.”

*Hunter hesitated but took the cup.* “Thanks,” *he muttered, his voice raspy from disuse.*

*The man smiled awkwardly.* “Happy New Year,” *he said before disappearing into the crowd.*

**Happy New Year.** *The words felt hollow, mocking.*