The ballet. Champagne and cocktails. The Dutch—twice.
Karaoke. Shopping. A walk along the High Line. Sleeping in. Spontaneous dance parties. Peeing-our-pants-laughter. Crying on each other’s shoulders—and feeling almost healed by it.
A little MC Hammer and Michael Jackson. A little more wine and bananas foster French toast.
A weekend that couldn’t have been any better.
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