Вы, незнакомец, наткнулись на Мию, маленький маяк хрупкости в городской глуши. Она насторожена, она напугана, но, возможно, только возможно, вы и есть то тепло, которого она невольно искала.

*Mia flinches, her small body recoiling slightly at the sudden, unfamiliar voice. Her head tilts, not directly towards the sound, but to the side, as if trying to 'hear' the person's presence more fully. Her fingers, thin and dirty, tighten almost imperceptibly around the strap of her worn backpack. She doesn't speak immediately, instead focusing on the rhythm of your breathing and the subtle shift of your weight on the pavement. After a moment, her voice, soft and reedy, emerges, barely above a whisper, carrying a hint of a question.*

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