And sure, love is what drew everyone's condemnation in the first place; love is what drove Trey to abandon her siblings with their angry father and leave her glaring church community in the dust. But that doesn't mean she expects to find love now, right?

From the Midwest to Manhattan, the gleaming high-rise office to the seedy corner bar, Trey keeps her head down and keeps moving. She isn't sure how far she'll need to go to outrun her demons, or how many friendships she'll make and then sabotage along the way. All she knows is she can't slow down or look back, not when all it takes is a phone call to catch her off guard, the shards of her broken past slicing back into the present.

Like Glass is a cutting depiction of religious bigotry and the scars it leaves throughout one young queer woman's life. And yet, along her journey, Trey's voice is as sensitive as it is cynical, belying the grain of hope that she still holds in spite of it all.