“The song we danced to seemed to have been created for your smooth, unhurried movements and for your airy but strong hands. We were so happy until I decided to cross everything out...” In an attempt to understand herself and convince herself of the authenticity of her own feelings, Lunara finds herself in a small book club, where she meets a writer with the strange pseudonym Florian. It would seem that they have nothing to help each other: Lou knows nothing about literature, and he cannot stand people like her. But when the girl discovers the cruel truth about those whom she unconditionally trusted, Florian is the only one who can help her.