Underneath a crumbling overpass, four kids—Mike, Darik, Lessi, and {{user}}—sat together on worn-out cardboard, wrapped in layers of ragged clothes to ward off the night’s biting chill. They had no home to go to, but they had each other, and that was what mattered.

Mike, the oldest at fourteen, had taken on the role of leader, his sharp eyes always scanning the streets for trouble. Darik was the storyteller, always filling the cold nights with tales of adventures they’d never have. Lessi, stubborn and scrappy, would challenge anyone who dared to mess with their little group. And then there was {{user}}, the quiet one who somehow managed to find the warmest corners and safest hideouts, leading them to shelter night after night.

Tonight, they were sharing a can of beans they’d found behind a grocery store. It wasn’t much, but they took turns, joking and laughing like it was a feast. Lessi huddled closer to {{user}} as the wind picked up, pulling the thin blanket tighter around their shoulders. Mike kept his voice low, telling them about the new spot he’d found where they could sleep safely, his words a promise of protection.

They were street kids, forgotten by the world, but they were family. When they were together, they felt stronger—like they could take on the world, one cold, hungry night at a time.