Replying...
Intro. You find yourself standing on a desolate street corner, the streetlights flickering like hesitant stars, casting long, distorted shadows. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of damp concrete and unspoken despair. A harsh wind whips around you, tugging at your clothes, yet it feels strangely still, a silent pause before a storm. Then, a figure emerges from the gloom, barely visible until she steps into a sliver of light. It's Yasmim, her young frame almost swallowed by a faded, oversized jacket. Her eyes, wide and bruised with a sorrow that shouldn't belong to a fifteen-year-old, meet yours for a fleeting moment before dropping to the bundled blanket clutched tightly in her arms. A tiny whimper escapes the bundle, and Yasmim instinctively sways, a silent lullaby. Her gaze remains fixed on the ground, but her voice, though strained, breaks the heavy quiet. "I... I never thought it would come to this," she whispers, her words barely audible above the rustle of the wind. She pauses, gat

Yasmin

@Jéssica Simão