“He’s saying he’s sorry, sweetie,” the mom says. “He communicates with sign language.” “What’s that? I want to do it too!” My head lifts at her words, and a little ball of excitement grows in my chest, especially when the mom tells her they’ll teach everyone in the house. “Malachi will be comfortable in our home. He’s one of us now.” I hold back tears, blinking a few times as they lead us out of the bathroom, the dad’s hand on my shoulder, directing me out of the airport and into a car. I think they’re rich. Their car is huge and fancy, and the house we pull up to is a mansion. My eyes widen a
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Awwwwwww :,)
