The Sinclair Brothers ✔️
The new house loomed, a testament to wealth I hadn't known existed outside of movies. Each brick seemed to whisper, "You don't belong here." My foster care file, thick with official stamps and sterile language, felt flimsy in my hands. The car door clicked shut behind me, severing the last tenuous link to my old life.
A perfectly manicured lawn stretched out, green and impossibly vibrant under the afternoon sun. I clutched the strap of my worn backpack, the familiar weight of it a small comfort. Inside, I knew, were the few things that were truly mine: a faded photo, a smooth river stone, and the gold bracelet that was my last tangible link to a past I rarely spoke of.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy front door, stepping across a threshold that felt less like an entrance and more like a leap into the unknown.
