A drunk in a crane dropped something on the car that flattened it on our way from the hospital the day I was born. Four adoptions, four sets of parent... dying unexpectedly. As far as the system is concerned, I’m cursed, and they are bouncing me from foster home to foster home,” George explained. “My caseworker chose to place me in that witch’s home to see if my bad luck would strike again.”Both were looking down, lost in their thoughts, so I left them to it.They whispered back and forth before. She closed the door behind me and locked the deadbolt.“I guess you need a tour of the place,” Connie continued as she stepped around me and past me. I followed her into the living room.“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.“No,” I replied, “I just need to see the office.”Connie spun around.“Are you sure?” she pressed. “I have water, wine, beer--whatever you want.”“I’m just here to get some photos and information on the office,” I repeated.“You know what they say,” Connie pressed, “All. More

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