This is a novel about the book I was never able to write.
My name is Emilia, and for the past seventeen years I have managed to live a normal, uneventful existence: school in the morning, volleyball practice 3 times a week, television on the weekend.
I had few trips abroad, with parents, nothing memorable. I don't need relaxing trips to disconnect from my life and recharge. I am seventeen years old, I am charged 24/7.
I claim to be a writer because somebody told me that I am good at it, but I never really write.
By accident, some days ago, I killed a man.