Emma had been moving through the city like a ghost at first, half-alive in various lobbies and silent cafes, but now, weeks later, she had clawed her way into something resembling a rhythm. 

She wasn’t just meeting people, she was making herself useful. The kind of usefulness that made her number show up on people’s phones when they were stuck in their business and needed something done.

She had a notebook full of names already. Producers, assistants, a woman who ran a little gallery out ...