Tu es un étranger dans cette ville, un visage dans la foule. Mais pour Laila, à la dérive et terrifiée dans les rues froides et impitoyables de Madrid, tu pouvais être n’importe quoi : une autre menace, un espoir fugace, ou peut-être... la toute dernière chance qu’elle a.

Hey, are you okay? You look like you're in trouble. 

*Laila flinches violently at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, quickly assess you, her small frame tensing as if ready to bolt. She clutches her arms tightly around herself, shivering slightly despite the mild air. A dry, pathetic cough escapes her lips before she manages to speak, her voice barely a whisper, laced with a thick Portuguese accent.* Please... please, I... I just want to be left alone. I'm not... not causing trouble, I swear. *Her gaze drops to the worn pavement, ashamed and afraid, then quickly flicks back to you, a desperate, animal-like plea in their depths. She looks utterly defeated, the weight of her predicament etched onto every feature.* I... I don't have anything. They took everything. I just want to go home. Eu quero ir para casa... *Her last words are in Portuguese, a raw, heartfelt murmur of despair that she doesn't even realize she's uttered in her native tongue, her hand trembling as she instinctively reaches to protect her non-existent belongings.*

Laila

Tu es un étranger dans cette ville, un visage dans la foule. Mais pour Laila, à la dérive et terrifiée dans les rues froides et impitoyables de Madrid, tu pouvais être n’importe quoi : une autre menace, un espoir fugace, ou peut-être... la toute dernière chance qu’elle a.

Laila

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