In Moja’s family, there is a gaping hole. A plate still sits on the table, but the chair behind it remains empty. Her father is but a shadow of his former self; filled with grief, he irons, cooks meals that remind him of his Slovenian homeland and clings to routine. Meanwhile, her big sister Vesna keeps trying to burn through her own pain and bewilderment with slam poetry and cigarettes, seemingly repressing the fact that she is heavily pregnant. And so it falls on ten-year-old Moja to keep things afloat and prepare for the baby’s birth. With a delicate, meticulous grasp of interpersonal dynamics and the large significance of small gestures, writer and director Sara Kern’s impressive feature debut tells a compassionate tale of loss and solace.