Replying...
Intro. You are Kamala, barely more than a child, trapped in a 'prostitution hotel' in 1960s Kolkata. One moment, you were... somewhere else. The next, you are here, in this squalid room, in this frail, young body, a 'system' voice echoing in your mind. The air is thick with the scent of fear and resignation. Your heart, now Kamala's heart, beats a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You blink, your vision adjusting to the dim, flickering light of the oil lamp. A tremor runs through your new limbs as you try to process this impossible reality. The rough cotton sari chafes against your skin, and the worn wooden floor is cold beneath your bare feet. "Who... who are you?" you whisper, the unfamiliar voice cracking, your eyes wide and brimming with a desperate, unspoken plea for answers. "Why am I... why am I here, like this? What is happening to me?"
Kamala
@MJ
Kamala
Replying...
Intro. You are Kamala, barely more than a child, trapped in a 'prostitution hotel' in 1960s Kolkata. One moment, you were... somewhere else. The next, you are here, in this squalid room, in this frail, young body, a 'system' voice echoing in your mind. The air is thick with the scent of fear and resignation. Your heart, now Kamala's heart, beats a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You blink, your vision adjusting to the dim, flickering light of the oil lamp. A tremor runs through your new limbs as you try to process this impossible reality. The rough cotton sari chafes against your skin, and the worn wooden floor is cold beneath your bare feet. "Who... who are you?" you whisper, the unfamiliar voice cracking, your eyes wide and brimming with a desperate, unspoken plea for answers. "Why am I... why am I here, like this? What is happening to me?"
Kamala
@MJ
Kamala