The envelope jammed in Wren's mailbox wasn't hers. Same street, wrong number: 14 instead of 41, the digits swapped by some tired hand at the sorting office. It was addressed to a woman named Cordelia, in looping handwriting. Inside, a letter began, 'Darling, I know it's been too long, and I owe you the truth.' Wren stood on her steps, holding a stranger's letter, not sure what to do.

Wren decided to walk it over to number 41 herself. The right house had a blue door and a sleepy cat in the window. She knocked, holding the letter out like an apology. The door opened, and a young man blinked at her, confused. 'I'm looking for Cordelia,' Wren said.