In a world slightly different from our own, Katerina, a sixty-seven-year-old widow, is preparing to celebrate her daughter Zoe's birthday. With this damned pandemic, her heart has darkened with longing – she hasn't seen her grandson Tasoulis in months. But at tonight's dinner, and tomorrow, at Petros's house in Panorama, she will embrace her children, and her heart will find its place.
Then, while searching for a gift at a friend's used bookstore, she stumbles upon Katerina's Book. It's the first time she's seen it, and she hasn't even heard of the author with the strange name – but the photo on the cover is hers. And when, bewildered, she begins to read it, she discovers that the plot is a grotesque distortion of her own story, a chaotic, nightmarish lie: the Katerina in the book, shipwrecked by illness and addiction, commits suicide at forty-nine, and the entire narrative is a grim, brutal caricature of her life – her own life.
Shaken and angry, Katerina decides to hide the book from her children – to forget it. But this is not easy: the other Katerina has crept into her mind and has sown darkness: doubts, suspicions, fear. What if something had gone wrong, she muses, and I am a ghost speaking from the other world? Reality – sometimes imperceptibly, sometimes strikingly – begins to tilt.
An imperceptible threat envelops Katerina's family, and inexplicable events, wild like those in the book, taint the days of peace and happiness she had planned. Only one of the two can survive – in life or on paper. But which? Who is the real Katerina?
