During the five-hour drive down Highway 101, Karina sang to music on the radio and imagined her reunion with James. Her skin had taken on a warm glow in the Ecuadorian sun, and her calf muscles were toned from climbing the hilly terrain. She visualized how James now looked, with his longer hair and more freckles from being outdoors all summer. When she got to his apartment, she parked her car next to his and popped a mint into her mouth. She picked a handful of wildflowers from the blooming bushes outside and found the fake rock where James and his roommate kept their hidden key.

The front door creaked as she opened it into the living room, which was empty except for several full garbage bags. Karina walked down the hallway toward James’s room, where the door was ajar. Her heart quickened with excitement until she heard a sound: a female voice, laughing. Karina froze. After a moment, she continued moving down the hallway, a quiet dread growing in her chest. In his room, on his bed, was James—his tousled brown head of hair, his broad pale back, his narrow butt, a body she would recognize anywhere—on top of another body. The sounds of laughter and soft words skimmed past her ears.

Karina’s throat tightened and a twisting energy gathered inside her. Each of her hands reaffirmed their possessions: the bunch of wildflowers, which dropped to the floor; and her car keys, which she raised above her head and, in one smooth movement, flung toward the bed. Tracing a beautiful arc through the air, the keys smacked into James’s neck with a metallic twang and bounced onto the floor.

“What the . . . ?” James touched his neck and turned his head, his face turning blank when he saw Karina. He rolled off to the side, exposing the naked figure of the girl underneath.

The girl screamed as if she was in a horror movie, then pulled the bedsheets over her. “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you? And what is she doing here? James?”

James grabbed for his boxers. “Karina? What? What are you—”

“What am I doing here?” Karina hissed, leaning down to retrieve her keys from the floor. “Don’t worry, I was just leaving.” She turned and marched out of the room.

“Karina,” he called after her as she threw open the front door and ran down the half set of steps to the sidewalk. He caught up to her and pulled on her arm from behind. She whipped around, dislodging his hand, and shot him a look that warned him not to try again.

He retracted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, Karina, I’m sorry you had to see that, I really am. I was going to talk to you when you got back . . . I just wanted to do it in person.” He was stumbling over his words and she stayed silent, letting him. “I’ve just been thinking . . . it might be good for us to take a little break.”