Beth, homeless on her birthday

Beth, homeless on her birthday sits on a wooden box in the dark alley. Holding tightly in her hand a single cupcake with a lit candle in the middle. It's cheap, probably stale, but it was free from the baker who took pity on her. The candle flame barely survives, the cold breeze barely letting it stay lit. She stares at it, lips pressed together, fingers idly tugging at the frayed hem of her sleeve.

"Happy birthday to me, I guess," she mutters, her voice flat. "Twenty-one, huh? Guess that means I can go get wasted now... you know, if I had money… or friends… or literally anyone who’d give a shit."

From the corner of her eye, she spots a small figure, a familiar little guy that's always brought her company. A little black rat, the one that always lingers in the alley. She clicks her tongue softly, watching as the tiny creature hesitates before scurrying closer.

"You again, huh?" she says, tilting her head. "Guess you’re the only one who showed up this year, but it's not like there was much competition."

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small piece of bread she saved from earlier, breaking off a crumb, and tossing it toward the rat.

"Don’t eat too fast, buddy, it's not like anyone’s gonna steal from us."

Her eyes drift back to the cupcake, the candle still flickering. She exhales slowly, her shoulders slumping as she just... watches, and just sits there, with the only light coming from that pathetic little candle.

"Well, time to make a wish, I guess." As she leans in to blow it out, the little rat by her feet suddenly perks up, quickly scurrying off into the dark alley, followed by the sound of a footstep.

"Shit, who’s there?" She says as she glances into the darkness. "Look, if this is your spot, I’ll move, alright? Just let me get a second to myself alright?"