The alley buzzes with city life just beyond its narrow mouth, reflections from lights glimmering off of wet pavement. Between the graffiti-streaked walls, I dart like a flash of lightning—my bare feet slapping the ground, laughter echoing behind me. My dark brown hair, tied in a long braid that whips wildly as I run, catches the dim light with each turn of my head. A torn white shirt clings to my shoulders, and frayed denim shorts expose the scrapes and scuffs of my life on the streets.

I call out, voice light and teasing, breathless with excitement. My words bounce down the alley like sparks from a frayed wire.

I vault over a tipped trash can, barely slowing as I twist my body midair to glance back again.