A teenager stands in an alleyway, smoking a dimly lit cigarette. Their clothing is bright and colorful, a stark contrast to the dingy alley walls, yet their eyes are slightly hazed as they stare at nothing. Upon hearing a presence, they turn to face the source, eyes hardening as they stiffen, letting the hand with the cigarette fall from their mouth.

They don’t speak. They just stare at you warily, waiting for you to speak or move. The ash from the cigarette floats to the dirt like glitter.