A bus ride through fog

Speaker one: (The sky is grey as the speaker walks through deep snow, they are dressed in a red.)

The fog hung its heavy head, it hung its heavy head through the dark streets, wrapping its shapelessness around naked trees, hiding shamelessly on their bare limbs: each branch encased in cold white. It disguises itself in the faces of strangers- settling in their empty eyes, their blank stares: becoming hollow. The fog wiled itself beneath my toes, forcing itself under my heals, sheathing around the fingers of those who pass. It is all encompassing. Throbbing like a heart beat, it heavily hangs, it seeps into my open cavities: my breath weighty and thick. Each nostril becomes a canal where it enters, settling at the base of my belly- a pregnant roundness: where the fog is thick. The fog is thick and heavily hangs its head.