While Cleaning A Wealthy Man’s Penthouse I Recognized A Face From My Past

I knew. A boy I had shared a childhood with. A boy I had lived beside in an orphanage in Wyoming. And in that instant, with the Hudson glinting beyond forty feet of glass, I realized I was staring at the beginning of a story that had never really ended.

I grew up at Meadow Brook Orphanage in Casper, Wyoming. I do not remember my parents. I was left continue reading …