Friends, I may come to you under the cover of night, after the face of a wooden table has become well acquainted with a chorus of open palms slapping it after laughter, or on beat to some tune spooling out of a single speaker. I may come to you in the moments after the party, but before sleep. I speak of this moment, and you will know I mean the exact hour where the once-cold drinks sit half-finished, gathering a warmth in their pockets, the exact hour where people surely must go home so that their friends can go to bed but also do not want the night to end. I will come to you in this hour,
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