Gwen is an empath. Raised in the city by immigrant parents, in a house that was bursting-at-the-seams, she did what she knew best: harbor every little feeling, down to the microdose, of her eight rambunctious siblings.

On sunny days, she would accompany her mom to the grocery store. She'd fix her gaze out the car window, lost in thought. As she leans against the bumpy car door interior, she feels the Sierra Nevada mountains run along her ribs—its contour the walls of a prison.