0. Prologue

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Boring.

A fitting one-word summary of my flight from Hong Kong to L.A. Its seconds crawled like minutes, its minutes like hours. And I wasted all of them waiting—waiting to arrive somewhere. Anywhere.

That was the perfect image of my life. Half of the seats around me empty, the other half occupied by strangers. Thundering at high speed through nothingness towards a destination I did not care about.

Normalcy in a tin box.

I had seen it all.

Or so I thought.

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