The party was lavish; rich. The quartet played Beethoven by candle-light while the party-goers milled about in dance.
Thomas stood alone staring at the moon on the balcony.
“Another year!” he whispered to himself, “And what have I accomplished; trivialities!”
Mary’s most uncomfortable high-heel shoes betrayed her approach as she held out a stout glass of bourbon for him, “Thomas?” Mary called.
“Yes, my dear, I am here.” Thomas smiled sadly.
“What is the matter? It is almost midnight. You are being missed in there!” Mary put the bourbon in his hand.
Thomas sniffed at the drink and took a sip, and turned back towards the full moon and shrugged, “They will not miss me too much, I think, Mary.”
“Why the melancholy?” smiled Mary, hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve not done what I wanted. I have not changed the world!”
“My dear, Mr. Edison,” Mary chuckled, “You will!” she kissed him, “What about your ‘light’?”
“The patent is pending; we’ll hear in February,”
“Then you’ll change the world, Thomas, you’ll see!”