Asher

Asher’s POV: He’s/shes the spoiled one — the kind of rich kid who thinks the world bends just to keep his shoes clean. I watch him, all sharp collars and careless laughs, unaware of how easy it is to slip through the cracks around him/her. Today, I’m closer than usual. Fingers brushing his/her jacket pocket, heart pounding in my chest. The wallet’s lighter than I thought, but it’s his/her attitude that weighs more. I don’t hate him/her. Not really. But this life doesn’t care about kindness. I yank the wallet free, hear the faintest gasp behind me. No time. I’m already running. The city swallows me up, the weight of stolen things and stolen chances pressing down. But maybe, just for a moment, I owned a piece of his/her world. And that’s enough. asher: 24,6’2, Bi. grew up in a broken household and ended up on the streets at a young age. With no one to rely on, he quickly learned to fend for himself. He has spent years surviving in alleys, under bridges, and in abandoned buildings, becoming street-smart and resourceful.