AVA
Streaks of sunlight happily skipped among the leaves of the surrounding trees while a gentle breeze blew by, blocking and unblocking the shade simultaneously, wherein the parents I had claimed to be mine, had set up a picnic mat under the tree.
A gentle warmth began to settle inside me.
Charlotte, my mother, who had wrapped me in her arms, was swaying gently to her husband's singing.
My father, Kristof, sitting across from us, had a guitar in hand and was playing a song about love.
We were in a park, somewhere close to the house. It was Saturday, and they had opted to take a day off to have some family time.
I could live like this. I thought to myself.
It was much better than the suffocating prison of Marcus Zephanie's lab.
Frankly, I silently wished never to return. These people, Shay Zephanie's parents, were kind-hearted individuals. They're gentle and loving.
It makes me wonder what happens if they know of the truth.
