 A tumbler of Scotch in his hand, a man stares out into the night from the studio apartment he s just rented. His door is open, and a young woman who lives with her mother down the hall stops in to ask him a favor. She s in constant motion, smoking, fidgeting, asking questions, looking through his flat. He s still, laconic. She tells him she s a high-school senior, he tells her he s just separated from his wife after a ten-year marriage. She talks about her plans to travel after graduation; he s a loose ends. Slowly they move closer to each other; only the tumbler of whisky is between them. It s two in the morning.