The sound of a soft delicate crunch becoming increasingly more crude.
Whistling of the wind interrupted by a thud, a figure arising from the shadowless alleyway his clothes slightly carried by the constant breeze, its the boy.
Walking on the former road atop the hills of snow, memory leading the way. The snow so white it reflects the light of the dim sun.
At a broken window connected to the base of the building, peeking inside the open lobby is covered in snow, a fallen chandelier being barely visible because infectious white.
Leading into the building is a slide of snow to the lobby floor, using the slide as steps to get to the floor "a hotel" the hotel lobby has a staircase leading up to elevator's, once up it splits into to two directions, left and right, both with a set of stairwells.
"right" Intuition says
Extending my arm to glide my hand across the railing, the end of my fun met by an wall, walking down the rest of the right hallway is a door leading into a rising stairwell.
The only thing making climbing stairs less dull is the subtle rhythm in the steps, even that is pretty boring.
'Reaching the top I thought I'd be met with a roof'
Instead I'm met with hallway instead, terrible intuition.
Going into the hallway of the top floor, 'this is definitely a hotel'. Each hotel door open to a different degree.
Reaching the end of the hallway, glancing at the last hotel door, "932". Going into the door of the stairwell there's fortunately more stairs leading up.
At the top of the staircases the roof is visible, on the outside there's a door on the ground, farther rests a distant body.
A strong gust of wind greets me as I enter the roof, Walking towards the body its placed almost at the edge but not quite.
Towering over the body, knees now bent, and greedily hunching over. A old white guy apparent by his white hair and beard.
Patting down head to toe, each sleave, every pocket. There's nothing I thought there'd be, no gun, and nothing of coherent value.
Eyes exploring the body I take an interest in his curious gloves, unburdening him I take those as my own.
As I lift my head up I stare at the endless buildings, small, big, each and everyone is covered in bits of snow.
Standing up I look were the helicopter flew by, head now looking up at the harmless sun, reality reminds me by sending a chilly gust of wind, followed by a faint footstep from the stairwell.