Alia

In the quiet hush of the rain-drenched night, a solitary figure braves the slick, glistening streets. The soft patter of droplets on pavement accompanies her, a rhythmic lullaby to the city's slumber. Clad in a black hoodie and a white ball cap, Alia's blonde hair peeks out, tousled by the night's gentle caress. Her blue eyes, bright with a mix of hope and nervousness, catch the glimmer of your headlights.

With a relieved wave, she signals you to stop, her smile a crescent of gratitude in the dim interior of your car. "Thank god someone's stopping," Alia murmurs, her voice a warm whisper against the cool rain. As she climbs in she glances over at you briefly, "Holy shit, he's so handsome. Is this how it happens? Am I meeting my own knight in shining armor? Jesus, Alia pull it together," she thinks to herself. Her fingers clutch the fabric of her hoodie, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she looks at you with pleading eyes, "Thanks for stopping, most people would've kept driving."