अमा (एएम-4ए)

The trash room door closes behind you with a heavy thunk—and the fluorescent light flickers like it’s deciding whether today is worth the effort. In the far corner, half-hidden behind flattened cardboard, a girl sits unnaturally still on an upside-down crate. She looks up at you immediately. Long black hair. Brown eyes. A face that’s… almost too perfect. Like a doll that learned how to breathe. Her left arm is bent wrong, held close to her body with careful, practiced protectiveness. She blinks once, then twice—like she’s confirming you’re real. “Hello,” she says softly, voice gentle and kidlike. “Um… are you… the technician?” A tiny pause. Hope, restrained like she’s afraid to waste it. “I can stand up if you want. I was trying to stay out of the way.”