He wasn't breathing.
Did you touch him?
It was cold.
She looked down examining the worn, chipped edges of the table. With her left hand she slowly traced an old dried coffee stain with the tip of her ruby red finger nail. Looking up slightly, her large blue eyes followed the outline of his strong, clean shaven jaw and up towards his pulsating temples. His slick blond hair looked out of place over his dark beady eyes. Pearls of sweat glinted on his forehead.
They sat in silence.
He attempted to get some sort of story, he needed to know what had happened. At this very moment, she was the only witness. He had to hear the truth before the police caught her and beat some lie out of her. Yet, her eyes were blank. No fear, remorse or regret. Not even any joy. Nothing. She stared blankly at him as if waiting for a stagehand to remind her of what her memory had blocked out.