Ashes and Gold
The hangover was not like other hangovers. It was not a headache or a nausea or the general sense that the world had tilted slightly off its axis and would not right itself for at least twelve hours. It was an epiphany. Izzy Mercer woke in her garret apartment above the Rue Lepic café with the clarity of someone who has just woken from a dream so vivid it felt like a life. And in a way, it had...
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