The picture was in black and white so she couldn’t get any clues about complexion, and the thing was so small eye color would have been impossible t... tell. It wasn’t her anyway. She never looked like that. Maureen kept staring at the face in the picture. She was tired. She wanted to go to bed. Sitting on the sofa with her mother looking at old pictures of some sick little girl wasn’t what she wanted to do. That wasn’t her in the picture. That couldn’t be her. Maureen didn’t want to do this any. They were an older couple who had never had any children and they were quite happy to have a surrogate son staying with them. They treated me very well. Mrs. Foster was happy to cook and clean for the family every day while Mr. Foster, now retired, sat around reading his newspaper and smoking his pipe. I sat all day long on the sofa devouring novels I had brought over from Europe. We made quite the old-fashioned family in many ways, but I knew it couldn’t last forever. Today was Christmas day.. More

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