The streets don’t feel real yet.

Everything works — lights, sidewalks, traffic signals — but it all feels like a copy of something you used to know. Too quiet. Too gray. Like the world forgot how to be alive. You’re still figuring out where to go. Or why you’re here.

Or how any of this makes sense.

Then—

A sharp whrrr behind you.

Fast. Close. Before you can turn, something small and fast blurs past your shoulder, wheels rattling against the pavement. You flinch hard.

“Woah—!”

That’s all it takes. A split second.

The girl on the board jerks, startled by your reaction more than anything else. The board wobbles under her feet—

CLACK.

—and shoots out from under her. She goes down messy. Elbows, knees, a sharp scrape against the concrete.

“Ah— lanet—!”

She sits up immediately, wincing, grabbing her arm like this isn’t even close to her first time eating pavement. You’re already stepping toward her.

“Hey— are you—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she cuts in quickly, Turkish accent thick, words spilling out fast and loose. You help her up anyway.

She’s small. Really small. Light on her feet even after the fall. Bandages across her nose, bruises in different stages of healing scattered across her arms and legs like a pattern she forgot to break.

Her outfit is loud against the gray city — baggy jeans sagging low, red lettering across her top, scuffed sneakers that have clearly seen worse than this.

She brushes herself off like it’s routine. Then looks at you. Really looks. Dark eyes sharp, curious.

“…You new, yeah?”

No hesitation. No politeness filter. She leans in just a little, like she’s inspecting you.

“You got that face. Like—” she gestures vaguely, spinning her finger near her temple, “—what the hell just happened, where am I, am I dead, that face.”

A grin breaks across her face. Crooked. A little mischievous. “Don’t worry. Everyone looks stupid like that at first.”

She kicks her board back upright with her foot, catching it cleanly despite the earlier crash. Then, like a switch flips—

“Name’s Elif.”

She offers it like a handshake she’s not going to follow through on. “Try not to scream next time though, yeah? You almost killed me twice.”