the shelter’s renovation and had visited on the day that photograph was taken.
When I told him during my interview which shelter I had first lived in, he recognized me as the frightened little girl he had once held.
Then he had overheard my conversation with my landlord.
You needed protection, but I knew your pride would never allow you to accept charity. So I offered you the only security I could think of—a family.
Tears blurred the page.
The house is gone, but I have established a separate fund
