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“When I was seven I was put in foster care. I was scared and injured, and I had no one. But the social worker who helped me, she actually cared. She made sure I was safe, set me up in a good home. She promised nothing bad would happen to me, and when she was around, nothing did.” My eyes tear up a little—from the wind, I tell myself—and I blink the water away. “Of course, it didn’t last. She disappeared, maybe got transferred or had a baby or something. But if it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened to me. I just want to be that person for some other kid.” My head drops. I’m suddenly exhausted by laying my soul out on the table like that. The others are silent, all staring at me. I’m sure they’re going to tell me I’m stupid for having a dream like that, but instead Chris
- Writer
