My aunt's New Year's Eve countdowns used to last exactly two hours and forty-seven minutes, give or take a few minutes for obligatory family selfies and her sister to whisper excuses in the bathroom while pretending to fix her hair. The room would grow thick with stale air from the endless supply of lukewarm canapés and lukewarm cheer. I'd hover near the snack table, nervously picking at the cheese and crackers, as my family made small talk about resolutions that no one would ever actually keep. My aunt's rendition of 'Auld Lang Syne' always seemed a touch too loud, a touch too proud, and a touch too off-key, until my cousin finally interrupted with a loud, exasperated 'Aunt Helen!' to signal the start of our countdown, after which we'd awkwardly hug and kiss and vow to make this the best year possible – before promptly returning to our routine.
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