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A week later, New York, Upper East Side.
When Liam and I walked out of the apartment building, the early winter sun was pale but bright. The driver was waiting, but I waved him off. “Let’s walk. It’s not far.”
We walked south along Fifth Avenue, past Central Park—where Julian and I used to walk, where he had once rented out a small pavilion for a private concert.
But the memories no longer stung. They were like faded postcards from a story that belonged to another time.
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