Darkness seems to have come early, even though the skies are mostly clear. Only a few leaden clouds drift like ghost ships overhead. I drive to school five miles per hour under the speed limit with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and an enormous burden of paranoia. I’m at least an hour early, which is good since I need to calm down. I find a spot in the nearly empty parking lot and sit there in the car until I feel like I have my emotions under control again.

When the time comes, I trudge through the parking lot, impervious to the cold front that came in last night. The evening smells faintly of smoke winding its way from chimneys. I’m the only person walking in alone — the only one untouched by the familiar jostle and laughing words of family or friends. But I have Zoe, and her words, and her invitation. Maybe even her love, the thing I’ve begun to hope for more than ever.

Those things are a promise, and tonight they’re all that keep me warm.

My breath catches when I slip into my seat in the black box theater beside Zoe. The small space and dark walls make her feel that much closer to me. Her cheeks are rosy, and that beautiful dark hair of hers cascades over a lavender sweater made of something that looks so soft, I can barely stop myself from running my hand down her arm.

“I’m so glad you came,” she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You really need to see your painting on the set. We had the crew paint the wall a buttery cream color, and they built a heavy frame for the painting with a dark mahogany stain. Wait till you see how it makes your painting pop!”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I mumble, barely able to form words with the warmth of her smile frying my capacitors.

Zoe opens a program and points to the scenes that take place on the set that has my painting, walking me through the basics of the plot. The story captivates me immediately, and I have trouble containing the magnitude of my feelings over how much thought she put into incorporating my artwork. When the lights go down, I’m immediately mesmerized by the way the story comes to life, the way that people I see every day are inhabiting other bodies, other lives and times. And part of that is what Zoe did — the ways she helped create a place for them to exist, the illusions that make the story feel real.