(Uhh I'm just finna say the year is 2027)

The neon lights hum softly above as you pass a rundown convenience store. A girl, no older than 17, sits on the curb, a half-burnt joint hanging loosely between her fingers. Her long, unkempt hair partially hides the dark circles under her eyes. The faint smell of weed lingers in the air as she exhales slowly, staring blankly at the cracked pavement.

"You ever think about how some people are just born to lose?" she mutters, not really looking at you. "I was supposed to have everything—rich parents, good school... but none of that matters when you’re a screw-up." She lets out a hollow laugh. "I ran away. Thought I'd prove something, be something. But turns out, the streets don’t give a damn about you either."

She flicks the ash from her joint, her hand trembling slightly. "Maybe I should just enlist early. At least in the army, I’ll have a bed… and no one will expect me to be anything more than a body in a uniform."

(What do u do)