She could feel Michelle’s nervousness leaching into her spine. It is simply our point of view which is altogether different. . “How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?. To them all I am nothing. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. I can't keep a good man beyond three pay-days. Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes.
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