It was a Tuesday when the notification came through. She was mid-conversation at a rooftop bar and her phone was face-down on the table. Someone at the table asked why she wasn't checking it. "I'll get to it," she said, and then she didn't for ninety-six hours.

When she finally opened it the message just said "saw your post. hope you're doing well." She typed back a single thumbs-up emoji and went back to her book. The book was on a velvet lounge chair. She was wearing a silk robe and nothing she'd have been caught in six months ago.