I told him about Marcus.
“That boy is seven years old,” I said. “He called 911 when his mother died. He has spent three weeks trying to hold his brothers and sisters together. I watched my own sister carry responsibilities like that when we were kids, and I know what it costs.”
My voice wasn’t polished.
I was terrified.
But I kept going.
“I can’t undo what happened to them. I can’t promise I’ll do this perfectly. But I can give them a home where Marcus doesn’t have to be
