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Amie: are those windows? Can you see out of them?

Uhh… she should be able to, yeah.

They're pretty grimy, not caked on, but that kind of dirt that ends up feeling like little fluffy dust-bunnies bits pressed into something somehow both oily and sticky.

She uses the hem of the sheet to wipe some of it away. It's awkward with the weird steep angle the windows are on.

Amie: look out the windows, where are you/we?


Well - that doesn't tell her much.