A grieving father connects with another sad soul with whom he shares a mysterious and potentially sinister link to the past.

SYNOPSIS:

A deeply emotional, character-driven story about grief, guilt, and this strange thing that happens when two broken people find each other.

We start with Drew — he finds his 10-year-old son, Ande, dead from an allergic reaction. He does everything right — tries the EpiPen, calls for help — but it’s too late. And that’s where we begin: in his grief. He spirals. The house feels haunted, literally and metaphorically. He mutters “I’m fine” like it’s a prayer — but he’s not.

He goes to a grief support group, hoping for comfort — instead, he finds Tisha, mourning her cat, and a room full of people who don't seem to get it. It’s uncomfortable, absurd, sad — and kind of funny, in that real, uncomfortable way. But just when he’s about to leave for good, he meets Michael — another grieving parent. Michael’s daughter, Olivia, died from cancer, and he carries a different kind of guilt.

What follows is a slow, tender, sometimes hilarious, sometimes heartbreaking unfolding of a friendship. They drink. They overshare. They chase a bat out of the house. They yell at ghosts — real or imagined. There’s trauma, but there’s also catharsis. The supernatural elements are subtle — like a broken refrigerator door that never seems to close, or a boy’s photograph watching silently — but they ground the story in this uncanny emotional reality.

At its heart, this is a story about two men who feel like they failed — who carry enormous guilt — and who slowly, over awkward dinners and emotional confessions, begin to forgive themselves. “I’m Fine” is a lie they both tell, until it starts to become the truth.

It’s intimate, cinematic, grounded in grief but ultimately about healing