Marta has always tried to be a good wife and her memory tells her she was, up until her son left home to live in the city, start a life of his own. In his absence, the façade begins to crack. She begins to see and hear things. She finds a cigarette in her hands, but has no memory of buying the package. In the market, she slips into a fugue state. Two hours have passed when she leaves—without having bought anything.
Clinging to her routine, to the way things should be done, Marta navigates what seems like deepening madness. It is obvious by now that she has been medicated for a long time—and probably should be. But she has not been taking her pills. She wants to see what happens without them.
She begins seeing a girl, long limbed and blonde, almost always dressed in ill-fitting white pajamas. The ghost of this girl haunts her, slipping into and out of existence, sometimes covering real people, sometimes embodying her own skin. Her family notice she’s not well and they continue to insist she take her pills. Equally obvious is the fact she has always been delicate. Both Marta’s husband and son tread carefully when dealing with her. But as she slides into further disarray, tempers fray and relationships become strained.