Sarah McLachlan lies naked in the bathtub with an olive tint casted over her. In an apartment, her boyfriend sleeps with a letter and magnifying glass beside him.
He reads the letter at his desk. She looks down as the elevator door closes. He puts his hands against the window and then tosses the chair at the wall. He tears up her pillow. The feathers land on the pictures of them on the pavement. The rain falls as he throws out another chair.
She rides in a taxi.
Her knickknacks shatter on the ground. Her cello veers into a puddle, creating a wave of water. As people pass by her holding umbrellas over their heads, she glances at her broken possessions. She salvages some photos and sits on a box for while, letting the rain drench her.
A car smashes into a table. Her boyfriend cries out to her as she leaves.
Sarah McLachlan surveys the damage she left behind. Her cello lie broken in the corner, its strings crinkled by the downpour. The vintage vases were in pieces. She was able to gather some photographs, some which were protected by the frames. A drawer her father had made was crushed. She sat on a box for a while, the guilt searing through her.
On the sidewalk, she turned around and he cried out to her that it was all her faut, that she never loved him and only cared about herself. She looked down at the ground. Every word was true. The letter she had written him was pleading for redemption. It was to absolve her. She was leaving him without only a few words and shirking from his deserved anger.
There was no need to apologize. He had no reason to forgive her. She opened the door of the taxi, ignoring his shouts about her cowardice. She would be a better person someday. There were secrets he didn’t need to learn. However, he would find out through mutual friends. She asked the cab driver to drive faster as she looked back at him one last time.
Director: N/A Year: 2003