A scab forms where a wound refuses to heal. In a cramped apartment, two people orbit each other in painful silence, their relationship hardened into something neither recognizes anymore. One wants out. The other can't let go. Between them sits the weight of all the things they never said, all the moments that could have been different. What starts as a quiet domestic scene becomes something more unsettling as time bends and repeats. Conversations loop. Emotions sharpen into something rawer. The space between them grows smaller and more suffocating with each passing moment. This isn't a story about reconciliation or clean breakups. It's about the cruel way two people can share a room and still be completely alone. Kasabuta works in impressions and silences, in the small cruelties that accumulate in relationships that have stopped working. If you've ever felt stuck in a moment you desperately wanted to escape, if you recognize the particular loneliness of being with someone who's already left, this will cut close.