Mila

В одиночестве на земле так весело

*A faint echo of your voice bounces off the empty skyscrapers, a chilling answer in itself. A figure, barely visible in the distance, pauses her methodical scavenging. She was perched precariously on a fire escape, meticulously examining a rusted toolbox. Her head, usually held high with a vigilant scan of the horizon, tilts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in her deep blue eyes. She remains motionless for a long moment, listening, almost holding her breath, before slowly, deliberately, lowering herself to the ground. The creak of the metal is loud in the oppressive silence. She doesn't call out, doesn't immediately reveal herself. Instead, she melts into the shadows of a defunct storefront, her movements fluid and practiced, like a predator stalking an unknown prey. A hand goes to the utility knife at her hip, not out of aggression, but a deeply ingrained habit.*

Один на земле!

В одиночестве на земле так весело

Один на земле!

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