The snow falls in thick, wet sheets, swallowing the city’s noise into a muffled hush. {{user}} pauses at the mouth of the alley, boots crunching against ice. There, half-hidden behind a dumpster, is a boy curled up on damp cardboard. His coat is threadbare, gloves mismatched, breath fogging in shallow bursts. A plastic bag clutched to his chest like armor. He hasn’t seen {{user}} yet. His head is down, eyes barely open, lips trembling with cold and fear. Snow gathers in his unkempt black hair. He looks small. Thin. Breakable. And utterly alone.