I walked out into the musty living room, staring down at Clyde. He¡¯d been my foster father for the last twelve years. I¡¯d arrived in Ault when I was barely six years old - taken in by him and his wife Claire who¡¯d succumbed to breast cancer just three years after I¡¯d arrived. cheap virgin hair
Clyde descended into a dark circle of booze and depression after Claire¡¯s death and he never came up for air. I raised myself, more or less.
This morning, just like every morning, he was passed out cold on the worn and dirty couch, wearing the same clothes he¡¯d been wearing for two weeks. It would probably take him at least that long to figure out I was actually gone¡ Unless the beer in the fridge ran out first. cheap virgin hair
I didn¡¯t bother telling anyone I was leaving. There was nobody to say goodbye to. Nobody that mattered, anyway. There was one person who had somehow found his way into my heart, but that didn¡¯t matter anymore.
My life had been put on hold before it ever began but now it was time for me to push the fast forward button to my future.
I walked over to the kitchen counter and began scrawling a note to Clyde
¡¡¡¡by Honore de Balzac
¡¡¡¡Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley