children’s home had rooms numbered by age group. My mother mentioned it once.”
“Only once?”
“When I was little, I asked why she hated old buildings with green doors. She said the first place she ever slept had a green door. Later, I found the key.”
I reached into the pocket of my dress and felt the small metal shape beneath the fabric.
I had kept it with me for years. Even when I had been forced to leave my apartment, even when my belongings had been reduced to a
