She tried Casablanca next. Spent an hour in Rick’s Café Américain, Sam actually playing “As Time Goes By,” the piano keys warm under her fingers. She told Rick he should let Ilsa go. He thanked her dryly and poured her a cognac she could taste .

Then the renewal notice came again. A year had passed. She almost let it lapse—maybe she should. She’d started avoiding her own life. Friends called her distant. Her boss warned her about missed deadlines. But the night before payment was due, she opened the site one last time.

She landed in the Emerald City throne room, just as Toto pulled back the velvet drape. The great, quaking face of Oz was crying, its gears grinding. She walked up to the small, bald man with the levers and knelt beside him.