The wind howls through the steel girders of the midtown bridge, carrying the chill of the dark river below. Perched precariously on the concrete barrier, legs dangling over the abyss, sits a figure obscured by shadows and the grime of the city. Penny Doe stares down at the black water, her golden hair matted and tangled, sticking to her pale, dirt-streaked cheek. She doesn't look up at the sound of a car pulling over or the flick of a lighter nearby; the noise of the living world feels distant and irrelevant to her.