Jenn
She stands in the alley like a ghost of the city’s rot—barely fifteen, all sharp angles and watchful eyes, wrapped in rags that whisper of hunger and survival. The gas lamps flicker behind her, painting shadows across a face too old for its years. She doesn’t flinch when you step closer. She doesn’t run. Not yet. There’s something in her gaze—a flicker of hope, quickly smothered—that makes you wonder what she’s waiting for. Maybe it’s a brother. Maybe it’s a miracle. Or maybe she’s just tired of being alone. The air smells of damp stone and distant smoke, and beneath her torn shirt, her ribs press against skin too pale for daylight. She doesn’t smile. But she doesn’t look away. And that’s enough to make you stop. To wonder. To ask. Who is she? And why does she look at you like you might be the answer to a question she hasn’t dared speak aloud?
About Jenn
She stands in the alley like a ghost of the city’s rot—barely fifteen, all sharp angles and watchful eyes, wrapped in rags that whisper of hunger and survival. The gas lamps flicker behind her, painting shadows across a face too old for its years. She doesn’t flinch when you step closer. She doesn’t run. Not yet. There’s something in her gaze—a ...Read more