Only my mother ever called me that.
Claire returns to her childhood home after her marriage ends - her mother recently dead, her daughter Maisie beside her, and a house she has spent years avoiding.
She begins to find her mother's recordings. Decades of cassette tapes, labelled by room and date. The house, it becomes clear, has not been empty.
The house is unchanged.
The recordings are still there.
Room by room. Date by date.
Claire begins to listen.
What the tapes contain is not memory.
It was waiting for her.
It was going through her.