za

r across from me felt like judgment. I watched th

ames, nurseries. Those dreams, once vivid, now felt like faded photographs. The ro

d left me with a cold meal. He walked aw

wedge, carefully placed to dismantle my place in Cohen's life, and I'd been too trus

g off the plane in Boston three years earlier, hopeful. Cohen

nderness I no longer recognized. "You sacrificed so mu

shown love and gratitude. He'd seemed sorry to uproot

n. My memory filled in: she'd "coincidentally" flown with us, relocating f

ect," Cohen said, hand on her shoulde

ID, an apartment code. The dream blurred: she wore my clothes, sl

om felt cold and unwelcoming. I grabbed my laptop, determined to buy a

seen in months: Ava, an old art-world friend. I'd asked her weeks

s. "I have information about Kenzie. It's...

dily. "Just tell me what y

nce. She bre

ived her permanent residency roughly two yea

d. Cohen. Kenzie. Married in immigration

ere? Okay?" Ava's

ting nausea. "I'm fine. T

rself. Call if yo

fted red to green. The world moved. I st