Valentina ReyesNew York City never lets you forget you're small.I hadn't slept more than two hours in a row for three nights. The alley off Flushing Avenue in Brooklyn was my spot narrow, shadowed by a fire escape, shielded from the worst of the wind. I'd curled up against a dumpster with my back to the bricks, hoodie pulled over my head, knees to chest. Sleep came in fits, sirens blaring, rats skittering past, some drunk yelling at nothing. Every time a car slowed, I jolted awake, heart slamming, ready to run.Morning light hit the alley like a slap. I unfolded myself, joints cracking, muscles stiff. My body felt heavy full breasts aching from the cold, round ass numb against the concrete, thighs chafed from jeans I'd worn for a week straight. The faint stink clung to me, sweat, alley damp, the sour edge of not enough food. I called it my armor. It made people look away. Made me harder to touch.I stood, stretched, and felt the crescent moon birthmark on my inner right thigh itch und
Last Updated : 2026-01-30 Read more