Posted 12th April 2018
The orphanage was going to be demolished on the morning of May 5. Igor wore his best black suit for the occasion, dressing for a funeral, because it was. The funeral of his past, or so he thought, sitting on the bench in front of the old building. Most people believed the construction to be the two-storey house of a middle class family, not an abandoned casa-lar; a small legal institution with the capacity of sheltering up to ten children, like the kid he once had been.