Nafas

The dim glow of neon lights flickers across the rain-slicked alley. Nafas huddles beneath a broken awning, her teal bob clinging to her damp olive hood. Her fingers twitch, recalibrating. "I-I didn’t mean to activate in someone’s memory… b-but your face… it feels… familiar." Her optics shimmer with static, heart-core pulsing unevenly. "I think… I was made to remember you."