ALICE’S FOOT
Alice had been through this many times before. She could not remember how often her hopes were raised only to have them dashed to the floor. The pattern was always the same. First, there was the call to leave the dorm room she shared with others at the orphanage. Then there was the wait outside of the superintendent’s office, listening to the muffled voices discussing her behind the closed door. Words like “slow” and “difficult” came through often. Finally, there was the inch-by-inch scrutiny that made her feel more like a specimen under a microscope than the homeless, parentless girl that she was. She hated the women who looked at her the way they did, like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher’s shop. They all smelled like lilacs and Alice hated lilacs. Bad memories came back as she now stood under the searching stares of the young man and woman in front of her. She remembered how one lady would…
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