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I dance beside a pillar, the sort of shuffle that is almost a parody, not committed to the action. This is a "1980s to 2000s" dance party. The other people, some in torn denim and neon, know why they are here. They aren't dancing yet and are too concerned with eating and drinking since they had the good sense to make a reservation.

Amber and I were here to dance. We were not permitted to sit at one of the tables for a rest, though I am sure I could have changed our fortunes by smiling at the right, early-fifties woman.
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