Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

Eleanor's weekend ration: two pizzas, two bottles, one phone call. Loneliness, itemized.

The music man with the joint on his lip, her entire romantic plan, built on one glance.

Raymond the IT guy noticed the man collapse and asked Eleanor to help. That's the whole plot: noticing.

Mummy's phone calls, the book's villain lives on a phone line, forever.

The burn scars and the story she'd built around them. Nobody saw her face and thought fire. They thought: person.

Vodka and a haircut and Tuesday therapy. Recovery has a busy schedule.

The concert, all those years of loving a musician who never knew she existed, until she didn't need him to.

Raymond's cat, his gran, his hoody. Kindness in ordinary packaging, over and over.

She let someone buy her a new diary. Small domino, whole new decade.

Carried out of it: fine is a sentence, not a life. Learn a second sentence.