A father heads home from work. He thinks gloomy thoughts about the winter solstice. He is jumpy and tense; he starts at every car or truck that whooshes past too close on the highway. At home, he greets his children — his fifteen year old daughter Ruth, who is absorbed in her phone and only wants to argue about the Dakota Access Pipeline, and his ten year old son Ross, who brings up the subject of cats and death. He antagonizes his son and pushes back against his ideas, which prompts his wife to squeeze his hand in warning. Later, as he watches television, the man tells his wife about his drive home, but then lashes out at her, irrationally angry and believing that she is not on his side. She sleeps facing away from him, and he wakes up in the morning and does not remember falling asleep. At his desk, his son comes in to show him a video of tigers play fighting, and is pleased when his father reacts positively. The father suddenly feels the urge to teach him about the solstice, which is happening in six minutes, but the boy already learned about it in school, so the two sit together, the boy's eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Is it now?" the boy asks. He keeps his eyes closed, and then punches the air when the moment passes.
Father and son look at each other in delight and the shared magic of the moment. They turn to see his wife standing in the doorway.