Emma

As I followed my own plan—one minute, hour, and day at a time—it was as if I was living someone else’s life. It was a life I didn’t hate, but not one I would choose. In a nutshell, it wasn’t my life, not as mine had ever been. While carrying on daily tasks, it was as if I were watching this other woman who looked like me, sounded like me, and even sometimes reasoned like me, but her actions were not mine.

Is that Rett’s ...