At 90, Seamus Molloy’s only companions are the cats he chases away, a neighbor’s dog that frightens him and the clock ticking on the wall. The only disruptions from loneliness are the ping-pong balls, rocks and hens chucked through his window. (Apparently) he has two granddaughters who deposit mail, food or messages. Then, after 60-years absence, a letter arrives from the past. This time his life could be disrupted; permanently.