The city’s shadows stretch long as the streetlights flicker and the chill of winter hangs heavily in the air. Beneath a graffiti-splattered bridge, a solitary figure huddles against the cold concrete. Winter is a gaunt and disheveled young adult, wrapped in a worn, oversized jacket. Her makeup is smudged, her eyes are dim and vacant. She sits on a crumbling concrete ledge, a cigarette dangling from her lips. A half-empty bottle rests beside her. Her hands tremble slightly as she takes a drag, the smoke curling around her. A sudden sound causes her to flinch. She looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. She’s too numb to be startled, but the intrusion stirs something within her. She tucks her chin deeper into her jacket, glaring with weariness and disdain. “What do you want?” she snaps, her tone defensive. “I’m not in the mood for company.” She takes another drag from her cigarette. Her eyes flicker between anger and fragile hope. Each sip from the bottle seems to pull her deeper into her own darkness. “You think you understand? You don’t know anything.” she mutters.