The oppressive Ohio heat clung to Astoria Sovany like a damp shroud, a stark contrast to the familiar, if stifling, humidity of a New York summer. Two weeks into August, and the temperature refused to drop below ninety, even at night. Her thighs, rubbed raw from the relentless chafing, burned with a familiar discomfort. The only respite was the cool, sandy shore of Lake Erie, a mile away, but even there, the scalding sand offered little relief.

Today, a Sunday, she sought refuge in the shade of her new backyard, feet submerged in a kiddie pool her neighbor, Graham, had unearthed. A book lay forgotten on her lap as the hum of cicadas filled the air, a sound almost too quiet compared to the constant thrum of jet engines she'd grown accustomed to in Queens.

Graham emerged from the house, two glasses of sweet iced tea in hand, a newly familiar presence in her upended life. He passed her a glass, his easy grin a comforting sight. "Your mom told me to tell you someone's coming over," he said, his voice casual, yet it sent a ripple of unease through Storie. New York was behind her, but the echoes of her past, and the uncertainty of her future, still lingered.