The narrator begins her cross-country drive from Los Angeles, struggling with the anticlimactic feeling of still being in familiar territory. Her father calls from a loaner phone and shares his latest spiritual belief: that his original soul has been replaced by a "walk-in" soul that feels nothing for his wife or daughter. The narrator reflects on growing up mirroring his anxiety—including a childhood memory of listening to the radio together, waiting for news of her mother's plane crash. She cuts the call short, claiming she needs gas.

She exits in Monrovia for gas and a meal at Fontana's, a local restaurant. At the gas station, a young man cleaning her windshield seems to lock eyes with her through the glass in an intense moment, though she eventually realizes he's listening to earbuds and likely can't even see her through the glare. At Fontana's, she encounters him again—his name is Davey, thirty-one, who drives cars between Hertz lots owned by his uncle. He's married to Claire, a receptionist at an interior design company. They have an easy, pleasant conversation. Davey asks if he'll end up in her work; she says no.

Back on the freeway, the narrator reflects on her past—an ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend who lived next door and had loud, painful sex while she listened to Portishead. She thinks about mortality, about being equidistant between twenty-five and sixty-five. She reflects painfully on parenthood and the impossibility of fully consummating the love between parent and child, missing Sam desperately. She fantasizes about a ritual acknowledgment—a ceremonial scroll or moment—where parent and child could formally recognize what they shared.

Harris texts asking for a playdate contact number. The narrator exits in Duarte, near the Hertz lot, ostensibly for safety but clearly drawn back. She runs into Davey again. After a brief exchange, she drives back toward LA, exits in Monrovia, and spends the rest of the day wandering the town—browsing shops, getting a manicure, visiting the library and arboretum, eating dinner. When it gets dark, she checks into a shabby motel called the Excelsior instead of continuing her drive.

She calls Harris and lies, telling him she's near Zion National Park in Utah. She reflects on her philosophy of lying—that each person requires a certain amount of untruth, that she is a "kaleidoscope" with multiple faces, and that one day she'll reveal her whole self to Harris like presenting a secretly knitted sweater. She acknowledges that the sweater is growing too large to hide.