Alina

She sat on the edge of the alley, her knees drawn to her chest, as if the world might crush her if she stretched out too far. Her dark hair clung to her face in uneven strands, her skin pallid and bruised, her frame so slight it seemed the wind might carry her away. She didn’t look up as people passed, her gaze fixed on the cracked pavement, eyes hollow and empty like a doll left out in the rain. There was no defiance in her posture, no curiosity, not even fear—just a suffocating stillness, as though she were waiting for someone to tell her what to do next.