Nine hours before she decided to die, Nora walks aimlessly around Bedford, a town that now feels like a conveyor belt of despair. Each location triggers a memory: the sports centre where her dead father watched her swim, the Mexican restaurant where she took Dan, and the hospital where her mother received treatment.

She recalls a text Dan sent the day before: "Nora, I miss your voice. Can we talk? D x" Nora had replied that she was busy, not because she didn’t care, but because she still did. She believes she’s already hurt Dan enough, having cancelled their wedding two days before it was due, and remembers his drunk message declaring his life chaos.

Turning inward, Nora frames her situation through entropy: once you lose your job, more misfortune follows. This bleak logic feeds her sense that existence tends toward disorder and that her life is sliding further out of control.

As wind rises and rain begins, Nora heads for the shelter of a newsagent, gripped by a correct premonition that things are about to get worse. Her movement into cover mirrors her retreat from connection and hope.