At the hospital, a doctor gives Donnelly the bad news: his wife of many years has died. He visits her body, placing a photograph of their pet rabbit on her hands. Then, in the early morning light, he leaves and catches a train back home toward Dublin. He sits across from a young talkative man who seems to have a loose screw, making coarse observations, starting an argument with a couple in the next seats who are clearly tense with each other. Over the next few miles, Donnelly learns that all four have lost someone that night, and, in a strange turn of events, the kid bequeaths to Donnelly a gift that may ease his pain. There’s a strange bond in grief.