Louisa woke on her birthday to find herself in the moving back seat of a car where she had fallen asleep. Startled, she and the car’s owner panicked at each other until a radio bulletin announced that the world-famous artist C. Jat had died the previous night at thirty-nine. Louisa began to cry, and the woman, confused but kind, offered a handkerchief and asked if she should call someone. Louisa declined and left the car, unable to forgive the world for making C. Jat’s death public property.

Louisa drifted through that day and the next in grief, unable to decide how to say goodbye or where a funeral might be. On the following day, her feet took her back to the alley by the church, the site of the mural she and C. Jat had begun: cockroaches, fish, hearts, and skulls still covered the wall. Knowing it might soon be painted over, she took out her paints and continued the work through the night, crying and losing track of time.

At dawn, without noticing the sunrise or approaching footsteps, Louisa was startled by a deep voice behind her. She spun around and, acting on fear, hurled her spray can at the man’s face. The narration identified this moment as the way she met Ted.