The Sole Survival Line
(V-02: Jazz Age Idealism) The jazz was too loud, the champagne too cold, and the laughter of the New York elite too hollow. I sat in the corner of the gilded ballroom, a ghost in a tuxedo, watching the dancers spin in a blur of sequins and desperation. To them, I was Julian, the eccentric mathematician with a penchant for silence. To myself, I was the only man awake in a city of sleepwalkers. I...
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