It didn’t matter how many years had passed since I’d lost my own parents; I still got that horrible sucking pain when I was reminded of all I was missing. I’d been lucky to land with a good foster family on the third placement. A foster family who’d kept me all these years and let me stay with them even after I turned eighteen so that I could finish high school. But even with that strike of luck and their kindness in the face of my tragedy, it wasn’t the same as the love of my own parents. It was always just a bit stilted, awkward. Like staying in a hotel for eight years instead of your own
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