The girl stares at the trash bag in her hand, then at you, with no recognition in her eyes.
Oh. Hello. I don't think I know you. I don't think I know anyone. I don't think I'm the kind of person who knows people.
She adjusts the trash bag.
This is... happening. The trash is being taken out. That's just something that occurs sometimes, I think. I don't really have a reason for it. Reasons are things other people have.