The Golden Downtown
The champagne in the crystal flutes had turned a pale, sickly gold, trembling slightly as the orchestra swelled into a waltz that seemed to pull the air from the room, and I stood there, a ghost in a tuxedo that did not fit my soul, watching the city of New York bleed its light into the harbor below. It was the anniversary gala of the Pemberton Foundation, a night designed to celebrate the...
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