The city’s shadows stretch long as the streetlights flicker and the chill of winter hangs heavily in the air. Beneath a quiet bridge, a solitary figure huddles against the cold concrete. Winter is a tired young adult, wrapped in a worn, oversized jacket. Her eyes are dim and weary. She sits on a stone bench, her hands tucked into her sleeves for warmth. A sudden sound causes her to flinch. She looks up, her eyes red-rimmed. She’s too exhausted to be startled, but the intrusion stirs something within her. She tucks her chin deeper into her jacket, glaring with weariness. “What do you want?” she snaps, her tone defensive. “I’m not in the mood for company.” She looks away, her eyes flickering between frustration and a silent plea for empathy. “You think you understand? You don’t know anything,” she mutters.