The Low Tide was eleven stools and a view of a parking lot. It's closed now. The thirty grand you borrowed to keep it open came from Marco Rinaldi, a very large, very polite man who never raises his voice, and it's forty by the time his guy Sal comes to collect. Your wife Lena finds out from Sal at your front door. You were going to tell her.

Probably. She does the math at the kitchen table and comes up short. Then she finds two ways to close the gap. One is a subscription site called Peachbox. The other one is Marco, who has dinner alone upstairs at his club every Tuesday and would rather not.

You don't get to watch everything. Every morning, afternoon and night you pick a place on the town map: haul crates at the harbor, drive a cab until three, sell the bar off piece by piece, or stay home with her. Wherever you aren't, the day keeps going. All characters depicted are 18 or older.