“What part of not my dog do you not understand?” she asked. “What’s the stumbling block? Is it the not? Is it the dog? Is it the sentence? The dog does not belong to me. He doesn’t even belong to my boss. He’s a borrowed dog, and he has issues!”

Murray made a disapproving sound, slapped down his sandwich, and picked up the receiver to tell Mrs. Amberson that her psychotic assistant was on the way up. Scarlett felt bad enough to stalk away with her head down, not looking back as she turned the corner to go to the elevator bank. She rested her head against the mirrored tiles above the buttons and looked at her face in extreme close-up. Her pores looked huge, her eyes red, and her hair broken and crazy. She didn’t like mirror-Scarlett. She didn’t like the Scarlett she was in, either. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“Did you just yell at the gatekeeper?” Mrs. Amberson asked, curious, when Scarlett let herself in. She was sitting on one of the white sofas, sucking on a piece of dried mango and scanning a copy of Variety. “He called up here sounding very hurt. Remind me to give you a raise.”

“He keeps asking about the dog,” Scarlett said, walking past her and going right to her desk.

“Are you all right, O’Hara?” Mrs. Amberson said, looking over in interest.

“It’s nothing,” Scarlett said. She grabbed for the first of the pile of envelopes to be opened and sorted. She tore it viciously, ripping the headshot contained inside. Some actress. Another starry stare and whitened, eager-to-please smile. The world was full of them.

“O’Hara…”

Scarlett clawed the next envelope from the stack. Where did they all come from, these idiots who wanted to work with them? There had to be a hundred more today.

“O’Hara. Leave those for a moment. Come sit over here.”

“I need to get these done.”

“They can wait.”

Scarlett dropped the envelopes and came and sat opposite Mrs. Amberson, sinking deep into the plush sofa.

“You’re having a hard day,” Mrs. Amberson said. “You didn’t have to come in today, you know. I know it’s not the easiest time right now.”

“I’m fine,” Scarlett said, staring at the carpet.

“Lies are a tremendous karmic setback. Keep it up and you’ll come back in the next life as something without a spine. You’re not fine. And you don’t have to be fine. This move of your sister’s…it’s a shock.”

“I don’t understand anyone,” Scarlett mumbled. She felt her eyes filling up, but blotted any tears away with her thumbs.

Mrs. Amberson thought for a moment before speaking, which was a little bit frightening.