***JOSEPH FLETCHER***
A cross-eyed young boy was alone by the window of the small room. His hair was black, long, and over his eyes. The other kids were congested at the corner sleeping in their sleep-bags. The group home Mistress was in the upper room. He knew better to tap the glass aloud.
I want to be seen. I want to live with a family. A family that loves me in a home of my own.
Raindrops outside in the gloomy night. He wanted to be at the other end of the glass. Every day since he could remember, all the friends he made were chosen and raised—raised in homes away from here. He was one of the oldest little boys and the one with the least hopes of getting picked. His sad green eyes disheartened the hopeful parents.
That ginger girl in a green sweater.
