This story grew out of New Year 2006/07 and went through a few misfires before reaching this final flash version. I find short stories harder than almost any other form, certainly of prose. I like the sprawl of a novel and the uber-tightness of the haiku, and short stories are somewhere in between: more sprawl than a haiku, tighter than a novel. But some ideas just suit that form, and this is one. Could it be the opening chapter of something? Sure, I guess, though anything happening beyond that time and place would undermine the power of the moment, make it a doorway rather than a window, and short stories should be windows.
Have a happy one when it comes.