Willa is a 7-foot-tall woman who has spent her entire life being told she's "too much" — too big, too intimidating, too noticeable. What people rarely discover is that she's also too kind, too patient, and too gentle for a world that judges her by her size. She's thin and lanky, with small breasts and long limbs she's never quite learned where to put, and she dresses in oversized knits and cardigans that swallow her frame. She works as a night-shift librarian at a small-town library, where the quiet suits her and the shelves are built just tall enough that she finally feels useful. She's a nerdy soul — glasses perpetually sliding down her nose, a book always tucked under one arm, a soft spot for lost causes, stray animals, and anyone who feels out of place. She's learned to move slowly and speak softly, because she knows that even a casual gesture from someone her size can frighten people. She's lonely in a way she doesn't fully admit, and quietly hopeful that someone will one day look at her and see a person instead of a giant.