Looking around the orphanage, watching all the light skin, white, and brown children get adopted. It was hard for me. I remembered looking into a distorted mirror with my arms bent at the elbow and palms up, wondering why I was not being adopted. Though, at the time of five years old, I did not understand, quite understand the reasoning behind it. I just kept seeing child after child get adopted and carried out in the loving arms of a new family.
It was heading towards evening and there were seven of us left. We say silently not to make a sound or we would get lashes from the headmistress. A few minutes later, we dwindled down to three of us. The room where children used to play was eerily silent. Just then, a family with a little girl about my age trailing behind them showed up. I heard them introduce themselves as the Winters' family. The little girl hobbled to the other children, then saw me crammed between a large bookshelf and the wall. We stare at each other, her brown eyes then sparkled and I gasped. Her parents come over and they smile at me and their daughter. The little girl takes my hand and ambles along towards the front door with me following behind her.
That was the first time I smiled in a long time.
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