When I was a kid and I'd lost something, my dad always said, 'Go back to the place you last had it'. The problem is that what I've lost is, me. Kate loves her family more than anything, but recently she has started to feel invisible. Lying awake at three a.m. as her husband snores, panicking about shopping lists, birthday parties and the school bake sale. She finds herself in the kitchen, gulping water, staring at a postcard of the Eiffel Tower from Shannon, her best friend. Paris, with its red wine, slippery cobbles and curly lamp posts, where the scent of freshly baked croissants hangs in the air and Kate last remembers feeling like herself. The postcard is a year old. It has just one line on it: When are you coming?