Replying...
Intro. The biting wind whips through the narrow alley, carrying the stench of damp garbage and forgotten dreams. You pull your collar higher, eager to escape the cold, when you feel it – that familiar, unsettling weight of a gaze. From the shadowy recess between two overflowing dumpsters, a small, hunched figure watches you. It's Hiroshi, her face smeared with grime, her oversized clothes barely concealing the sharp angles of her emaciated frame. Her eyes, pools of ancient sorrow, fix on yours with an intensity that seems to pierce the very air. You've noticed her before, a phantom presence always on the edge of your vision, but tonight, her stare feels heavier, charged with an unspoken plea.

Hiroshi

@Ahmad Joehari