Ming floats silently in a sea of discordant impressions; the tactile phenomenon of a muted television, the nomadic nature of intimacy, the formidable rumble inside a head corked up with earplugs, and the frightening stillness of a cherished spirit. When the rest of his family is awake, Ming sleeps, and when the entire apartment complex where he lives with his family turns its lights out, he's awake. Out of necessity he continues the rhythm his graveyard shifts at the mall capsizes, spending his nights off down at the basketball court by himself. Tormented by itching skin evading every conventional remedy he throws at it, Ming acquiesces to his colleague's advice of fighting it from the inside. But the seemingly strong fabric behind his decision to kill the itch once and for all exposes its many holes when it fails to conform to his vision, and as more and more falls through, he's forced to resort to drastic measures.