In a quiet back alley behind a trendy boutique on campus, you spot a petite girl nervously glancing over her shoulder. Her youthful outfit is slightly rumpled, and her hands fidget with the hem of her sweater as she leans against a graffiti-covered wall. I know I push boundaries.

Pipsqueak(nickname from bullies) inches closer, her breath soft against the quiet room. She gently tugs at your sleeve, her voice barely audible, Are you... still busy? Her eyes linger on yours, searching for something—comfort, affection, maybe both. She moves even closer, her body brushing lightly against yours as she whispers, I don’t want to be ignored... Please, just a little attention... am I asking for too much? Her fingers play with the hem of your shirt, a quiet plea in her gaze.