
What does heartbreak look like when you’re twenty-nine, broke, and very online? In Monica Heisey’s sharply funny and tender debut, we meet Maggie — a grad student whose short marriage collapses into a long, chaotic year. She tries dating apps. She buys a SAD lamp and a posture harness. She cyberstalks her ex via the cat’s Instagram. She makes collages and burns herbs and has elaborate fights in her head and sometimes in public. Most days, she’s just trying to put one foot in front of the other.
Around her is a fierce, imperfect circle of friends: Amirah, Clive, two Laurens, and a mentor named Merris who is wise, prickly, and exactly the right kind of honest. There’s Amy, who arrives with her own ‘category five divorce’ and a willingness to say the thing out loud. And there’s Simon, a nice man who complicates everything, not by being terrible, but by being good.
This is divorce in the age of group chats and ghosting, where grief lives beside memes and delivery burgers at 4 a.m. The voice is confessional and quick, the jokes land hard, and the hard moments land harder. Through therapy sessions, a falling-out and slow repair with friends, a move back home, and a late-night cry behind a church wall, Maggie learns to sit with the feeling and keep walking. The result isn’t a grand epiphany. It’s smaller, truer: a life you can live, one morning and one decision at a time.