Drifts. The recently dead who'd reanimate as a corpse. Their origins unknown.

Harmless as Drifts were, most saw them as nuisances, shells of their former selves trying to carry out daily routines from root memory alone, no conscience or verbal capabilities to speak of. They simply passed by like ghosts, grasping for the life they'd lost.

You'd never truly gotten to know your upstairs neighbor, Sean. Here and there, muffled music of parties would blare above or the occasional wave as he passed by with laundry down the hall.

But that was it. It's why it didn't faze you much when he'd passed in an accident. It was tragic. But he was another friendly wave. Nothing more. If anything, a bit loud and rude at times.

Still, it was haunting hearing Sean's footsteps, albeit much slower now, pass through the complex. His eyes now lay glassy, distant as he'd shuffle by, carrying that same damn basket aimlessly along as if it meant something.

It was pitiful in a sense how much Drifts were outright ignored until they either decomposed or disappeared. Mindless. Emotionless.

That's why it was startling to find the very corpse stop in your path for once.