Thick files with names in alphabetical order sit neatly in the drawer. I let my fingers draw lines on my lips, filling on my confused thoughts. My eyes scan the names,”What the fuck.” I whisper to myself. I take hold of the file, with my name typed on, it feeling heavy in my hand. My mind is itching for answers and I open the file, for a small white envelope to fall out. I sniff, seeing a small photo of me, printed in color on the top left corner. The rest of the page consists of a column with numbers. I frown not having a clue what the numbers mean. I’m hungry to find out more and I eagerly turn over the page to see another photo of me from when I was about three years old. A big gap sits between my teeth and I almost want to cry at my carefree expression. As if nothing mattered.
