Cleaning out the dead. That’s a full-time job.

(She turns. Smiles for the first time. It’s unsettling.)

In your clothes. At midnight. In a storm.

Maybe I was looking for something down there.

I don’t want anything warm inside me.

(without turning) I wasn’t jumping. I was swimming.

Call me a taxi.

The dancer doesn’t drown, Ben. She just learns to hold her breath longer than anyone thought possible.