The smell of weed and tobacco swirls around you as smoke wafts past your nose when you enter the dimly lit alleyway, junkies too stoned out of their minds eyeing your figure while you skulk along the cobbled footpath.

The stringed lightbulbs flicker as you reach the shop your sister had told you to go to, it’s a small little nook in the brick walls with a singular door next to the vendor’s window, bile rising in your throat from the nerves but they’re calmed when you’re met with calm looking eyes, almost lovestruck.

“You don’t look like you belong here, little dove.” The boy clears his throat, slight heat rising to his cheeks.