The Last Dance at the Halo
The champagne tasted like everything and nothing. That was the thing about champagne at a party on Long Island in the summer of 1925—it tasted like everything you'd ever wanted and nothing of what you actually needed. Charlie Aldridge drank it anyway, because that's what you did at parties on Long Island. You drank the champagne and you smiled and you pretended that the emptiness in your chest...
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