sleepwalker

Speaker two: (Sitting above a busy street, watching life move from down below. Talks happily.)

Composition. There was an explanation for the wilted flowers. They hung as endearing as a painting, however, moved back and forth. Swaying. their roots never touching the bathtub they floated above.
Listless. She sat near the window. Eyes still heavy. Her limbs heavy, each one trying to function as weighted steel, iron. Lead. Lead limbs which slowly traced the pane, each silhouetted branch, each house and street. Her knees pressed up against the cold white wall. Stiff and mechanical.
The corpse: solid. Due to the cold, its decomposition was much more desirable. No maggots writhing through its tiny sockets, its mouth a crystal palace, no longer the haven for flies. Alone now, in this snow-filled vastness it has met its paradise. Cold and serene. The quiet: noninvasive. The quiet: exactly what it wanted. Wind lightly caresses its frozen face. Its hands now tightly bound by snow.