The city never forgives silence.
Neetah felt it in every step she took. Even when the streets were bustling, even when vendors shouted and children ran past, the city's hum seemed to echo her own heartbeat back at her—louder, heavier, insistent.
Her thoughts twisted, looping over and over: the lost job, the threats, the isolation. Every choice she had made had a cost. Every decision left an imprint.
She stopped at a street corner, watching people pass. Faces blurred, strangers laughing, shouting, living their lives as if unaware of the shadows pressing down on others. She envied them—envied their ignorance, their freedom.
"Neetah!" Madison's voice pulled her from the fog. She jogged up, carrying a small paper bag. "Food," she said, offering it. "You need to eat. You're burning yourself out thinking too much."
Neetah shook her head. "I don't even know if eating helps anymore."
Madison smiled faintly, a tired but determined expression. "It helps more than doing nothing. And standing here doing nothing won't help you either."
Neetah took the bag, peeling back the paper. The simple food felt heavier than usual. She realized hunger wasn't just physical—it was emotional, existential. Hunger for safety, for clarity, for control.
They sat on the edge of a low wall, watching the city move.
"I feel like everything I do," Neetah said quietly, "echoes somewhere I can't see. Every choice has a reaction, every word a consequence. Even being here… I feel it."
Madison nodded. "That's the city talking to you. Its echoes aren't threats—they're reminders. Reminders that you exist, that your choices matter, and that rising through the shadows isn't just about surviving. It's about leaving your mark."
Neetah chewed slowly, thinking about that. Leaving a mark. She thought of the nights she had stood, trembling but unbroken. The whispers that followed her. The losses that had chipped away at her, piece by piece.
A sudden shout from across the street made her flinch—a minor scuffle, quickly resolved, but enough to make her heart race. The city was alive, chaotic, unforgiving, and she was part of it. Whether she liked it or not.
Madison stood, brushing dust off her hands. "We move when the light fades. Shadows are easier then. And I think it's time we started moving again."
Neetah followed, feeling the weight in her legs, the ache in her shoulders, the tension in her chest—but also a small, persistent spark of something else: clarity, choice, resilience.
The city echoed around them, full of life, full of threats, full of possibility.
And Neetah understood something crucial: she couldn't control the echoes, but she could choose how to respond.
And for now, that was enough.