An apartment on the eleventh floor. A couple is making love. The telephone interrupts their frolics: the woman’s husband will arrive imminently. The young man wants to flee, but the lift is out of order. If he takes the stairs he risks finding himself face to face with the husband. Nor can he jump from the window. He thinks while time runs out. There is a knock at the door. Instead of the husband, a Jehovah’s witness, holding a Bible in one hand, appears. He is out of breath from the stairs and feeling unwell. The young man and the woman give him first aid. The Jehovah’s witness gets his breath back and starts spewing out a pathetic speech about family. At the end of his speech, the Jehovah’s witness dies. The lovers lay him on their bed and start to speak of their own lives. The husband never comes, it is a fiction of their minds tired out by the routine of a banal affair.