The sound fades. The last pop of a distant firework echoes and is gone. It's over, isn't it? The confetti on the floor looks like rainbow-dirty snow, a strange memorial to a life we were chasing, hoping it would lead to a brighter glow. Every glass is empty, every last drop drained. I find myself scrolling through my phone, and there it is… last January. It felt so warm back then. We truly beli...
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