Finding Home
Amy and Mia show me the way to happiness, openness, and freedom. Amy, indeed, looked like a poor waif from a Dicken’s novel! She had been waiting for a while in the rain. Her hair was soaked and matted against the sides of her face, outlining it in a frame of amber. Streaks of water still flowed into her eyes. Her body was shivering in the warmth of the room from the chill in her clothes. “Let me get you a towel!” I said as I rushed to the bathroom, my voice filled with concern. “Th-th...