Today's OneWord: Tradition

We were supposed to head to Smokey Village at sunset, and share a bottle of cinnamon cider to commemorate the new year; that was our tradition. But you had left me two nights ago, cold in my own bed, a small scribbled note placed on my nightstand informing me that you had gone off to busier streets and skyscrapers. I went to Smokey Village alone, with the sunset an angry orange in my face, the spice of the alcohol burning my tongue.