I'm in a kitchen with other people. My father comes in wearing my leather jacket. I ask if he wants something. He says yes. We are in a house. We all take our cars and drive the long way home. First on the motorway, then on increasingly narrow roads until we continue on narrow planks and finally on a single plank that spirals nowhere on the sea. I call R., then my brother. The route has always been interrupted by country roads, but never like this. Back at the house, I want to tidy up, pick up the mattresses and set off again quickly. There's a grey sea in front of the house that I want to swim in. Y. says her boss is better. We all ask her why she says that. I want to go. A. and his family aren't ready yet. I go out and find stacked baking trays that I can clean so as not to leave the house in total disarray.