“No, it was a dumb thing to say. But you’re kind to say that. I’m really sorry.”

He was edging farther away from her.

“Wait,” she said. “I don’t know your name.”

Confusion crossed his face, as if he couldn’t work out why she would want to know his name. Then he met her gaze, and the blush rose to his cheeks once more. “It’s Gregor.” He raised his eyebrows in a question.

“Ruby.”

“Like the jewel,” he said, and then cringed as if he’d said something stupid.

The tram was slowing to a stop, and people were filling the gap between them as they prepared to get off. Although she wanted to say something clever to make him stay, to make him talk to her some more, to reassure him that he hadn’t offended her, all she could manage was, “See ya.”

The rest of the journey home passed in a blur. She wondered why he’d gotten off the tram early, whether he’d done it just to get away from her because he was embarrassed, or if he had somewhere else to be. He’d seemed to recognize her, which was both worrying and thrilling. It was possible he knew her from the estate or from seeing her around the city in the days before her world shrank to the size of her flat. Perhaps, when she’d still been at work, they’d shared a commute; perhaps she wasn’t as invisible as she thought she was.

At her apartment building she had so much nervous energy to burn that she ran up the stairs instead of taking the lift. She’d spoken to Yoga Man! He thought he knew her! He seemed nice! She checked her mailbox and found a letter from Sam, finally. Today was a good day indeed.

At three AM, Ruby was still awake but feeling almost ready to go to sleep. Her practice had gone really well: she’d mastered some of the more virtuosic sections of the concerto and remembered to stop before her arms started hurting. After that she’d written back to Sam, a slightly manic three-page ramble that began:

Sam! I think I’ve met someone. I mean, maybe not met someone, but then maybe that is what I’ve done. I’ve made a new friend anyway—probably? But I have a good feeling about him. You know how sometimes you just know? And I’m composing again, which is a big thing for me. You’ll have to hear it when it’s done. I think it might be good, and I’ve never thought that about anything I’ve written before …