A series of letters from an “A.” to “V.” traces “A.”’s life beginning at nineteen, newly living in Toronto. “A.” describes poverty that forces long walks, an eerie orange winter sky, a night out dancing, and an early friendship with Clark from acting class, including Clark’s stories about experimental theater and his refusal to pursue a practical degree.

As the months pass, “A.” grows more reflective and insecure: “A.” dreams about “V.”’s coastal home, misses the island, and worries about being a bad actor. After an acting instructor calls “A.” “flat,” “A.” vows to improve and later feels a breakthrough when the instructor finally watches closely and acknowledges the performance.

When “V.” does not reply for months, “A.” writes a final, bitter letter accusing “V.” of never initiating contact and of failing at friendship, while also insisting on the ambition to become a remarkable actor and considering auditions in New York.

Years later, “A.” writes again after seeing “V.” at Christmas and announces sudden, joyous news: “A.” is getting married to Miranda, an artist who makes strange, beautiful comic-strip-like work, and the couple will move to Los Angeles.

In later letters, “A.”’s tone turns unsettled as “A.” confesses falling in love with Elizabeth and hints at the moral mess and awkwardness of it, especially under Clark’s disapproving gaze. Eventually Clark visits for dinner again; Elizabeth performs charm and domestic ease, and afterward “A.” recalls a Yeats-obsessed teacher and the line “Love is like the lion’s tooth,” framing “A.”’s relationships as both intimate and damaging.