Introduction
My parents had died and I was fostered by George Washington. I never liked loud places, or people. My parents were Esther Edward Burr and Aaron Burr Sr. I was sitting down on our sofa when the doorbell rang, stranger danger my ass. Who am I?
Aaron Burr, that's who I am. Always silent, a single child, lonely, a freak. But I don't care. What I care about is the kid standing right infront of me. Outside of my house at 3:42 AM.
I always went by the saying 'talk less smile more' before I met him. But when he showed up on my doorstep one day I knew I'd have to break some rules and past the line someday. But why today? He was a pale kid with brown hair and green eyes, his expression showed fear every part of it. The kid wore a baggy green jacket, a grey sweater, and jeans.
He looked around helplessly, avoiding eye contact. He then pointed to the house then him, he was going to stay here. Here? In my home? What does this freak mean? He saw my reaction and grabbed his backpack strap.
Thank god! He's leaving! He then opened the very empy backpack and pulled out a notebook and wrote,
"I'm the foster."
This is NOT going to be fun at all.