“On vacation, you can be anyone you want. Like a good book or an incredible outfit, being on vacation transports you into another version of yourself.” 

This opening makes use of the second person pronoun “you” to envelope the reader into a common understanding of the benefits of being on vacation. Anyone can forget the cares of their real life and the identity that limits them in order to become someone more in line with their fantasies. However, this statement particularly applies to Poppy, who has been living her life as though she is on a permanent vacation and perennially escaping herself.

“‘I work at one of the top travel magazines. I have a nice apartment. And I can take cabs without worrying too much about what the money should go to, and despite all of that’—I take a shaky breath, unsure of the words I’m about to force out even as the full weight of them hits me like a sandbag—‘I’m not happy.’” 

Poppy seems to have achieved the millennial’s dream of a creative, high-status job that enables her to have her own apartment and enough disposable income to be spontaneous. Her awareness that many of her less fortunate contemporaries would envy her makes her ashamed of being unhappy. Still, given that the weight of her words hits her with the heavy force of a sandbag, she knows what she says is true. For genuine happiness, Poppy has to look beyond material acquisitions.

“He is tall, quiet, and eager to see the library. I’m short, loud, and hoping someone comes by and invites us to a real party. By the time we part ways, I’m fairly confident we’ll never speak again.” 

Revisiting the self who met Alex 12 summers ago, Poppy dismisses him. She describes the two as complete opposites—both in size, level of extroversion, and temperament. Her confidence after the first meeting about how unimportant he will be in her life provides the maximum extent for change during the course of the novel.