In an empty apartment, a woman decides to hang herself on Monday night. With this timing, she is sure her husband will be the one to find her body, rather than her daughter or mother. She thinks about how devastated her mother will be and feels regretful that she did not plan her death better, wishing she could have gone to the park, read some books, eaten a fancy meal, or slept a little more. Even so, she ties rope to a banister and lets herself fall half a story. She feels people’s eyes on her, their bodies bumping into her. She sticks out her tongue and remembers her lover, a different man than her husband, who has recently left her for a new woman. Eventually, her husband finds and recovers her body with the concierge, who makes coffee for him afterward. The woman is upset that they are placing the cups directly on the table without using coasters but cannot do anything about it. She thinks again of her lover, who did not approve of her love for coffee. She thinks of the new woman, who perhaps drinks milk or juice instead. She hears the concierge tell her husband that “life must go on” before leaving. Her husband spends all of the next morning making phone calls and preparing for the funeral. He calls her lover as well, and she mourns that even in death, she has not been able to rid herself of the pain of her lover finding another woman.