Marjan asadi
Homeless
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It was a cold, rainy night in late autumn. It was past eleven o'clock, and the deserted streets on the outskirts of town took on an eerie atmosphere beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. The wind howled through unfinished buildings, and a heavy silence hung over the dark alleys—a silence that could be shattered at any moment by the unexpected. Marjan, a tall, twenty-four-year-old woman with a dusky complexion, clutched her worn backpack tightly as she made her way cautiously through the desolate streets. She was homeless, and that night—like so many others—she was searching for a safe place to spend the night. Yet, a strange feeling told her that someone was watching her from the shadows and that this night would be unlike any other.