The Symphony of the Last Gala
The champagne flowed like liquid gold in the penthouse of the Chrysler Building, but the bubbles tasted of ozone and ash. Outside, the New York skyline was a jagged silhouette against a sky that had turned a shimmering, iridescent opal. The Great Exchange had begun. Julian, a painter whose canvases were once the talk of the salons, stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the stars dance...
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