Now, as the song faded out in her ears, she didn't hit repeat immediately. She took a breath, looked at the horizon, and realized that for the first time in months, she hadn't checked her phone to see if he had called. She had finally snapped out of it.

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Ever since Rosa Linn had performed at Eurovision, the song hadn't just been a melody to Elara; it was a rhythmic anchor. She lived in a small apartment where the walls felt a little too thin and the silence felt a little too loud. To cope, she’d downloaded the MP3, tucked her headphones on, and let the snapping fingers in the track dictate her heartbeat. Snapping one, two—where are you?

The stage lights in Turin were a hazy violet, but for Elara, they felt like a spotlight on her own living room floor. She clutched her phone, the screen glowing with the single word she’d been playing on loop: .