The confetti settles on the floor, a quiet echo of the noise. The glasses are empty, every drop drained from a night spent chasing a brighter glow. A scroll through a phone brings back last January, a time when the air felt warmer, when we were certain we would be fine. Now, there is only the silence and the lingering aftertaste of wine. The city rests under a blanket of smog, and the new year ...
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