Karly stroked her cheek as she stared at me, studying me, evaluating who I was. A stranger. I could feel her debating with herself. When she spoke, even before she formed the words, I knew she was going to say something that changed absolutely everything. “Have you ever heard of something called the Many Worlds theory? It’s from quantum mechanics in physics.”

I wanted to scream, but I could barely breathe. All I could say was, “I have.”

“Do you know what it says? About the idea of living other lives? About parallel worlds?”

My voice was almost inaudible. “Yes.”

“Do you believe it’s possible?”

“Actually, I do.”

“I tried to drown myself,” Karly went on. “I nearly died.”

“I know.”

“I was in a coma for almost a month.”

“Yes.”

“The thing is, while I was in that coma, I went somewhere. I didn’t even recognize the place. It was some kind of—some kind of dollhouse. I know that sounds weird, but it was a huge dollhouse. There were other Karlys there. Endless numbers of them, all like me, as if they were passing through on their way to somewhere else. It was like I was inside those Many Worlds, at a kind of crossroads.”

She stopped. Embarrassment filled her face. “See, I’m crazy.”

“No. Go on.”

“I met one of the others there. I know how it sounds, but this woman was another me, living a totally different life. I told her everything that had happened to me, about Susannah, about how bitter she was about her business failures, about how we never got along. And then how I lost myself after she was gone. This other Karly understood my dark side, even though she had a much happier life. She was in love. She was married to—”

Karly stopped.

“Who?” I asked urgently. “Who was she married to?”

She looked down. “It doesn’t matter. I told you, she had a different life. Anyway, she wasn’t a poet, but she was talented and funny. We sat in a corner of the dollhouse, watching the other Karlys coming and going, and we wrote poems together. We wrote Portal. Her and me. We sifted through all that dark matter together and came out the other side.”

“That sounds like an amazing experience.”

Karly shook her head with something like wonder. “It was. Except none of it was real.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course it wasn’t. It was me talking to me. All I know is, when I came out of my coma, most of the poems from that book were already in my head. I knew what I needed to do with my life. I was finally ready to let go of the past and become a different person.” Suddenly, Karly pushed her chair back and stood up. “God, what am I doing? This is nuts. Please don’t tell anyone I said this.”

“I won’t.”

“I need to go.”