The room was quiet.Elena didn't mind.She sat by the small desk near the window, her laptop open in front of her. A cup of tea sat beside it, long forgotten and already cold.Outside, the city continued with its usual noise. Cars moved along the street, distant voices floated through the night, and somewhere nearby, someone laughed loudly.But inside the room, there was only the soft hum of the fan and the faint clicking of Elena's keyboard.She read the poem one last time.Her eyes moved slowly over the words.They gave me a name before they knew my story.She paused.Her fingers rested on the keyboard.For a moment, doubt crept in.Maybe she shouldn't post it.Maybe she was exposing too much.Not that anyone knew the account belonged to her. She had made sure of that. There was no photograph, no real name, nothing that could lead anyone back to her.Still, something about putting those words into the world made her uneasy.She leaned back in her chair.For so long, she had allowed
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