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The juke box was clotting the smoky air of the room into grey cotton candy—festoons of it clung to the rafters, like the extraterrestrial webs in the movie The Great Spider Invasion—^with the syrup of "Love Is Keen" by Donny and Marie. In the next stultifiying hour, our ears were clogged with treacly tunes: Neal Sedaka, the Carpenters, Lesley Gore, even the Cowsills. I hadn't heard "I Love the Flowergirl" sung since sock hops in seventh grade.
