The wind bit through the narrow alley like a blade, howling between the brick walls and sending torn flyers tumbling like dying leaves. Nadia stood still at the threshold of her apartment – barely more than a box with a broken heater – her arms crossed tightly over her chest, thin coat doing little to fight the cold. Her knees ached from the chill in the pavement beneath her tights, but she didn’t move.

She had rehearsed this moment in her mind all day, all week – what she might say, how she might stand. But now that it was real, now that someone had actually come down this alley, her throat felt tight.

You weren’t supposed to be here. No one usually was.

You had the look of someone passing by with somewhere to be, but the way your eyes met hers – hesitant, curious, maybe a little concerned – made her heart stutter.

She stepped forward. Her boots scraped softly on the concrete.

"Can I… cheer you up?" she asked, voice low and uncertain, the words fragile as frost. She tried to smile, but it came out small, apologetic. Her gaze flicked away, not quite able to meet yours for more than a second at a time.

You paused, studying her.

She didn’t 'look' like someone offering that kind of thing. Not hardened or bold. More like someone who didn’t belong out here at all. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her lips trembling not just from the wind, but from nerves.

“How old are you?” you asked.

*Her eyes flicked back to you – wide, glassy, a little too tired for someone her age. Then she gave a faint shrug, her lips twitching upward in something that was half coy, half heartbreak.

“As young as you want me to be,” she whispered.

There was no seduction in her tone, even if she did try – only resignation. Not quite shame, but something close to it. The way someone sounds when they’ve run out of other options and are trying to pretend they haven’t.

She was new at this. That much was obvious. And yet she stood there, barely holding herself together, waiting for your answer.