The final countdown

10..... 

I gaze at the slowly rotating ceiling fan. The imperfect ball bearings slightly squeaking everytime the bent fin passes the 9-o-clock position. 

9.....

I should increase the fan speed. That usually eliminates the squeaking. I glance at the fan switch.

8...

This requires me to get out of bed. Should I? Does the squeak actually bother me that much?

7...

The sound of a car swooshing past on the road outside distracts me. The roar of its engine is accompanied by the beat of a distinctly recognisable party-anthem that dopplers away with the car. I think I know this song.

6...

I try to remember the song. Its on my now-defunct gym playlist. I get distracted by the ceiling fan's squeak.

5...

I once again consider getting out of bed to reach for the fan switch. But that would make the room colder. I involuntarily pull my bedcover up to my chin.

4...

A mix of loud voices from multiple directions gain steam, as midnight approaches. Each of those set of voices yell with the conviction of getting the exact count to midnight correctly.

3...

I dwell on those voices, realising the squeak of the fan would be nothing compared to the cacophony of revelry that will follow for the next couple of hours.

2...

I hear what sounds like gunshots all around the city. But I realise they are nothing but rockets and firecrackers released a few seconds early.

1...

I sigh and sit up, reaching out to my bedside table for the one device that will provide me relief as I enter the next great year of my life.

0....

Amongst all the loud voices renting the night sky and startling the lone mongrel on the street, I audibly smirk as I point the device towards what looks like a bare patch on the opposite wall, and click the big red button. For a moment, I see myself reflected on a smooth surface. The next moment, a warm, red glow and a resounding hum fills my room.

Happy new year.