Night falls. The power hiccups, then returns. Lina jokingly posts a story: “Off-grid weekend, send snacks.” The camera pulls back through the house’s glass skin to the dark sea beyond, and then the sky — impossibly bright with a thin aurora-like glow that vanishes as suddenly as it appeared. At dawn, two figures appear in the driveway: G.H. WASHINGTON (60s), a stoic Black man in a rumpled suit, and RUTHA WHITE (50s), a disheveled white woman. They claim to be the house owners, saying an emergency forced them to return. Their story is simple and urgent: there’s been “something” — an event in the city — and they had nowhere else to go.