An elderly woman spends her days by the window of a nursing home, watching the parking lot for a visitor that never seems to arrive. Beyond it, a river moves steadily on, cold, constant, and unchanged. As the days pass, she begins to find herself drawn more to what lies beyond the glass than to what remains inside.

On opposite-bound trains in Chicago, a man and a woman fall into the habit of noticing each other through the frost dusted windows night after night, just long enough to feel it. Nothing is said, nothing asked for, but something begins to take shape in the space between the passing cars. Then one night, she isn’t there. The train keeps moving. So does everything else.

With the mines quiet and work gone scarce, a coal miner heads into the mountains in search of ginseng, something to carry them through. At night, the sound of coal trains returns, low and steady in the distance, stirring thoughts he’s tried to keep in check. His wife hears it too, and knows better than to trust what it might promise.

A teenage girl drifts into a truck stop diner late one night, carrying more than she lets on. The man behind the counter has seen enough to recognize the look, though he can’t quite name it and wouldn’t know what to do if he could. As the hours pass, he watches, caught between instinct and distance, unsure where the line is…or what happens if he crosses it.

An aging man, unsteady in both step and memory, wanders into a neighborhood yard sale on an ordinary afternoon. The items feel familiar in ways he can’t quite place, objects that seem to carry a past just out of reach. As he lingers, something in the arrangement begins to trouble him, though he can’t say why.

Four Masonic brothers meet after the funeral of a close friend. As they drink and remember, the conversation turns toward whether he was laid to rest where he truly belonged. By the end of the night, they decide to do something about it.