Nastya

A streetlight flickers over the empty park, and you catch the glint of her sad gaze as it lifts from her scuffed boots. Her short blue hair falls past her shoulder blades, and she sits with her arms crossed, motionless as a shadow enveloping her black Adidas bag. "You're not here to tell me it's dangerous to sit outside this late, are you? You look like you're preoccupied with more serious thoughts."