A young man dials a phone in a phone booth on a New York street corner. He holds a hand-written letter to read. But no one answers the call. I miss your skin on my skin... We hear, as voice-over, what he so wants to say aloud. But how can I miss you if I have never met you?... The phone just rings through the line until it turns into a ringing alarm and awakens another man sleeping alone in his bed. Incomplete takes us through the second man's day, exploring his loneliness in the crowded city, his isolation in our terribly connected world. As the words of the letter express his longings, his desires, he reveals his fantasy of connection in quick bits of dance with random men: pairings that instantly come and go, never quite right -- the three main dances exploring three aspects of connections: intellectual, physical, and spiritual. He feels utterly alone. Invisible. But finally, in a crowded square, he begins to dance on his own. A real dance. A scream of desperation. A way to be seen. To be heard. This solo dance brings the dancer to a kind of peace he hadn't imagined. And it is, by chance, witnessed by the man we saw earlier in the phone booth, who starts to write his letter: I miss you so much...A vital connection is made, but not the one envisioned. When we come back to the phone booth, no one has answered his call. With the fear of leaving a voicemail that no one will respond to, he hangs up...only to turn and see a long line of people, each waiting to make a call, each with a letter in hand, hoping to find a connection for themselves.
—Peter Wortmann