The Golden Reel
I. The winter of 1924 bit hard into New York, but not as hard as the memory of the winter of 1918 in the Argonne Forest had bitten into Thomas Whitman. He stood on the corner of Broadway and Fourteenth, watching the crowds flow past like a river of wool coats and cloche hats, and felt the strange dislocation that came with being alive when so many of your friends were not. Six years had passed...
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