She was awoken by a hand on her shoulder. “The library is closing,” a woman said in a tone that suggested she felt bad for having to wake her up and send her on her way. It didn’t matter if the woman seemed to be fine with the fact that she had fallen asleep. Aria’s body felt like it had been dropped out of thin air, consumed by the fiery flush of both embarrassment and adrenaline. She nodded in acknowledgment and jumped to her feet so fast that she didn’t notice the torn piece of paper upon which Taylor had written in undeniably poor handwriting: I’m going to a temp office, I’ll be back as fast as I can. Wait here for me. Love Taylor. The note fell to the floor and under the chair she had been sitting on. Taylor had found her sleeping and, having decided not to wake her, placed it on her lap.

The lights in the library had dimmed. The stores in the foyer had closed their doors for the night. Aria was confused, having been suddenly jarred into a reality where it seemed that she had missed so much. After exiting the building into the congregation of other homeless people who, along with her, had suddenly been ejected from their sanctuary, she looked back through the windows to see if she could find Taylor still inside. She felt her stomach sink. Not knowing what else to do, she sat down on the grass. Did he fucking abandon me here? she thought to herself.

Aria had been wrong about people before. But this just seemed so drastically out of character, especially given that they both seemed to be each other’s lifeline. She felt sick. Her world was spinning. Her mind was flailing to reach for ideas about what had happened and what to do now, as if those ideas were buoys in the middle of a deep ocean full of sharks. After about half an hour, that all-too-familiar feeling of bad luck got the better of Aria. She was doing her best to stay in the light from the street lamps and blend in with the crowd, which was largely ignoring her. Since she was a child, it had dawned on her that some people are lucky. They see themselves in the faces staring back at them. They are not strangers in the world. Some people feel the warmth of connection; they are not worn thin by wariness. But to Aria, her own voice sounded like a wolf’s cry in a chorus of bleating. She was a stranger in this world. She had no one and she had nothing to belong to.

Aria had resigned herself to accepting that as if things could not get any worse, now she was alone, when Taylor’s voice rattled across the distance from nearly a block away. “Aria!” he was yelling again and again. He walked toward her rapidly.