A woman in a slip is at her dressing table getting ready for a night out as her husband paces nervously. He's thinking back 30 years when, as a young man, he paid a visit to a pawnshop, a Nixon poster on the wall, a prostitute plying her trade outside. As he works up the courage to tell her whatever is eating at him, the flashbacks show a sleazy salesman pitching a necklace with a diamond-studded pendant. Back in the bedroom, he screws his courage to the sticking point and tells her the truth, as a fly buzzes annoyingly in the background. Are karmic forces at work? Will the sole of a shoe meet the soul of a heel?
