It was a box she hadn't opened in years, filled with mementos, letters, pictures and other things she couldn't bring herself to get rid of. Memories. She had rediscovered it after the fire, in the back corner of a closet emptied as she moved what was left to her new apartment.
Now she sat on the floor in her empty living room, the box sitting closed in front of her. As she removed the lid, Stella was flooded with memories of her childhood. The Bennetts. Mindy. The orphanage. At the very bottom was a file she'd never been able to bring herself to open, her records as a ward of the state which she'd received when she turned 18. Information, if there was any, about the family, the people, who had given her up. Something the fire had nearly taken away.
She opened it. A picture fell into her lap.