The Last Dance at the Halo
I. The party was everything Charlie had dreamed of and everything he had suspected it would be: loud, bright, and hollow as a drum. He stood on the terrace of the Halo Club, a glass of bootleg champagne in his hand that cost more than his father had made in a year, and watched the women spin across the dance floor in dresses that shimmered like fish scales under the electric lights. He was...
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