The Silver Cocktail Shaker
The saxophone in Central Park was playing a song that Dee O'Malley had never heard but felt she had lived. It was a warm September evening in 1925, and the jazz was spilling out of an露天 bandstand like beer from an overpoured glass—wasted on nobody, wanted by everyone. Dee sat on a bench with a gin and tonic that cost forty cents and tasted like regret with a lime garnish. She was twenty-three,...
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