“How can one be themselves
“How can one be themselvesif they do not know who they are?”
if they do not know who they are?”The young woman hurried down the quiet street, grateful for the tranquility of the midafternoon rest. The heavy heat of the day would only find more at rest than usual. It also found her drenched in sweat—hunched over, chin low—beneath the cover of her hood and cloak, an uncomfortable necessity. She was a wraith, a shapeless, faceless form scurrying through the city just like the rats in the gutter.
It was not the first time she had traveled through the city alone, hidden beneath such garments. It would not be the last. The heat scorched from below as well as above, rising through her slim slippers, rising up from the paving stones. She prayed that this outing would
