The Verrick Theatre sits an hour past the last gas station, a black stone box with no sign out front. They gave Mara the lead after one phone call. The actress before her, Lenore, walked out mid-run, and nobody will say where she went. In her dressing room, taped to the mirror at eye level, is a single index card. The handwriting is Mara's own. It reads: "You will read this and not run. Good. We start at eight."

Mara decides this is a prank from the crew. She marches out to find the director, a thin man named Hollis who hired her over the phone. "Funny," she says, holding up the card. Hollis doesn't laugh. "You wrote that this afternoon," he says quietly. "You just don't remember doing it yet."

Mara backs away from Hollis. "How do you know what's on the card?" He smiles sadly. "Every lead writes them. The theatre takes your memory of tonight and hands it back as a script. Lenore stopped following hers." He glances at the stage. "That's why she's still in there."

Mara asks Hollis how to free Lenore instead of saving herself. "Take her place on stage and speak her last line as your own," he says. "But know this, the one who says it stays, and the one in the dress goes free." He hands her a single card. "You already wrote down your decision. I just can't read it."