- She talks on the phone, continuously; to people that are not near, and who dont understand that she's about to float.
- She speaks to a friend - for the first time; and wonders what he must think of her: talking from inside her watery grave. His voice echoes in her ears.
- She goes, always, to sit on the road with her neighbours; to sip warm beer and laugh, and agree heartily that 'it wont touch us!', while it touches, and takes, from all others around her.
- 'Someone' says, 'Why don't you come back to mine?', and she declines and goes back to lock the doors, and put Leonard Cohen on the record player, and pack a bag; and cry for all the stuff she has that can't save her, while she organises candles and charges her phone.
- It's not a game anymore; the water keeps rising.
- And Leonard says: "you think maybe you'll trust him, for he's touched your perfect body with his mind". But it maybe too late; for 'Susan' and for her.
- And it's a lonely watch; from the top floor; from the highest point; from the farthest that she can get from the water.
- And only Leonard sings out, from below, as the water rises.