In the basement of a house, a mother and son grapple with madness and loneliness through the invention of new realities. Victims of their own fantasies, they find in self-immolation a way to escape their fears and nightmares.

In this room lies everything we desire; within it, we need nothing from the outside world—aggressive and increasingly uninhabitable—to survive. He, cold to the bone, watches her, engaging in a cyber relationship with Her, who hundreds of kilometers away, enjoys the sea breeze. Amidst their tedium, both shout voices that echo against the walls; they comfort themselves with the idea that someone, in the distance, accompanies them.

His forced departure to the outside world triggers a fatal event that reflects the actions of a society that relegates human relationships to interactions mediated by computers, intercoms, phones, or recorders. Amidst the interference, the soul gets lost in a world that, as She says, “no longer wants to look into the eyes.”

The family nucleus as the center of conflicts that mark its members and the place where character, genius, and figure are formed. The mother has died. The urn of ashes, with the corresponding rite, brings the siblings together for a reckoning. The time has come to dismantle the house and distribute the assets, the claims, resentments, and accumulated grudges.

Clare, Kenny, and Frank haven’t seen each other for years. Each has found a way to flee. They either hide, run, or erase every trace they leave behind. But some appointments are unavoidable, and this is the right place and the exact moment. Unknowingly, they all arrive at the same place. Just as things sink to the same depth if they carry the same weight. It’s time for inventory. Time to deal with the remnants.