The Resonance of Solitude
The parties at the Waldorf-Astoria were loud, but Julian Thorne lived in the silence between the notes. It was 1924, and New York was a city of gold and ghosts. The air was thick with the scent of expensive gin, Chanel No. 5, and the desperate, frantic energy of a generation trying to forget the mud of the Somme. Julian, in his tuxedo, stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the flappers...
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