text: [Themes: Urban Fantasy]
  
  > Describe the surroundings
  All the units in this old building have been divided and subdivided until they're dangerously cramped. The apartment is much as you found it; a year is not so long, and you'll be gone soon.
  
  You can see an engraved wastebasket (empty), a cardboard box (in which are a pint glass and a goathorn piece), a desk (on which are a shred
  of fabric, a broken propeller, a trapped butterfly, and a tallow candle), and a chair here.
  
  > put the butterfly in the box
  (first taking the trapped butterfly)
  You gingerly take the trapped butterfly with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the trapped butterfly into the box. Sure, in retrospect this
  is hardly the most useful thing to grab and run out of a fire in a magic shop, but hindsight is 20/20.
  
  In the end, you're too much of a pack rat to really leave anything behind. Particularly in such a definitive way. But it's the exercise
  of choosing that counts; if you're going to carry all those memories along with you, let it be because you think they matter.
  
  Nobody has fun on new year's eve anyway; the pressure is too much. So you might as well spend it choosing what to take and what to leave behind. A year in this city has shown you enough things that you'd rather not have seen.
  
  You light a cigarette while you wait out the last few moments. You don't hear the snap of the wastebasket vanishing into thin
  air at midnight; it's drowned out by the crackle of fireworks outside. But you smell ozone in the air, and feel the telltale vibration of something ceasing to exist.
  
  > put the butterfly in the wastebasket
  (first taking the trapped butterfly)
  You gingerly take the trapped butterfly with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the trapped butterfly into the wastebasket. It's kind of sad destroying this, since it's one of a kind, but it's also useless and bizarrely cruel.
  
  There; it's done. You've picked what to keep and what to discard from the past. A cleaner entry into another year of struggle.
  
  Nobody has fun on new year's eve anyway; the pressure is too much. So you might as well spend it choosing what to take and what to leave behind. A year in this city has shown you enough things that you'd rather not have seen.
  
  You light a cigarette while you wait out the last few moments. You don't hear the snap of the wastebasket vanishing into thin
  air at midnight; it's drowned out by the crackle of fireworks outside. But you smell ozone in the air, and feel the telltale vibration of something ceasing to exist.
  
  > Examine box
  Just a cardboard box you salvaged from the bodega down the street. Using paint made from wormwood and lead, you've marked it with a sigil meant to keep its contents safe in transit.
  
  In the cardboard box are a shred of fabric, the keener fragment, a broken propeller, a pint glass, and a goathorn piece.
  
  > put the fabric in the wastebasket
  (first taking the shred of fabric)
  You gingerly take the shred of fabric with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the shred of fabric into the wastebasket. That case is closed, anyway, and you travel light.
  
  > put the propeller in wastebasket
  (first taking the keener fragment)
  You gingerly take the keener fragment with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the keener fragment into the wastebasket. You'll be really
  glad to be rid of this thing; even in pieces, those have a mind of their own. You could never track down who made the original device, anyway, from just this small piece.
  
  (first taking the broken propeller)
  You gingerly take the broken propeller with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the broken propeller into the wastebasket. I mean, it's really just mundane trash, but you kept it for a while as a reminder that they're not invincible.
  
  > Examine box
  Just a cardboard box you salvaged from the bodega down the street. Using paint made from wormwood and lead, you've marked it with a sigil meant to keep its contents safe in transit.
  
  In the cardboard box are a pint glass and a goathorn piece.
  
  > put the pint in wastebasket
  (first taking the pint glass)
  You gingerly take the pint glass with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the pint glass into the wastebasket. To be quite honest,
  you're not sure if these are even enchanted. You nicked one hoping it had some kind of self-cleaning charm on it, but no such luck.
  
  > put the goathorn in the wastebasket
  (first taking the goathorn piece)
  You gingerly take the goathorn piece with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the goathorn piece into the wastebasket. You've told that
  story a couple of times now, but maybe it's time to bury that body;
  the old fish-goat still shows up ever so often in your nightmares, crying about the concept of cheese.
  
  > put the butterfly in the wastebasket
  (first taking the trapped butterfly)
  You gingerly take the trapped butterfly with the handkerchief.
  
  You put the trapped butterfly into the wastebasket. It's kind of sad destroying this, since it's one of a kind, but it's also useless and bizarrely cruel.
  
  It's been, in the ways that count, and awful year. Nobody will blame you for throwing out what little good there is, along with all the
  bad. You try not to let your mind form the words "fresh start"; there has never been one, and never will be.
  
  Nobody has fun on new year's eve anyway; the pressure is too much. So you might as well spend it choosing what to take and what to leave behind. A year in this city has shown you enough things that you'd rather not have seen.
  
  You light a cigarette while you wait out the last few moments. You don't hear the snap of the wastebasket vanishing into thin
  air at midnight; it's drowned out by the crackle of fireworks outside. But you smell ozone in the air, and feel the telltale vibration of something ceasing to exist.