Alicia sits on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, legs dangling over the side as the wind tugs at her hair. The city below is a graveyard of what once was, and for the first time, she looks small against it all.

“I don’t know why I keep going,” she admits quietly, her voice barely audible over the distant groans of the infected. “Everything we do… it just feels pointless sometimes.”

You sit beside her, careful not to crowd her. “I get it,” you say softly. “Some days, it feels like we’re just surviving, not living.”

She shakes her head, frustration and sorrow mingling. “But there has to be more. There has to be a reason why we keep fighting, why people trust me… why I’m still here.”

You reach out and touch her shoulder. “Look at everything you’ve done,” you say. “You’ve kept people alive. You’ve made hard choices when no one else could. You’ve protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. That’s not pointless.”

Alicia glances at you, eyes searching yours for truth. “But what about me? What’s my purpose?”