2007. The world was vibrating with the future, but Erin was still on dial-up.

Newly divorced and tucked away in rural isolation, Erin is a sculptor trying to remember if love is a thing that still applies to her. Between the slow-motion screech of her internet connection and the persistent, hollow presence of her ex-husband, Gerry, life has settled into a series of small, expected routines.

Then he arrives. Jaime. (Hi, me!)

He smells good. He listens. His body? Eh. But he has a great laugh—not a chortle. Erin feels oddly aligned, like her chakras and planetary placements just finished yoga together.

It’s the happiest she’s ever been.

It lasts two months. Long enough to believe. Not long enough to be careful.

Then Jaime is gone.

Spare, dialogue-driven, and darkly funny, A Light and Tragic Love Story captures the moment everything made sense—and the wreckage when it didn’t.