Andrew had long lost hope that someday in his worthless life he would have at least one good parent. Not after what he went through in foster care. The little boy who dreamed so much of love and care died long ago in adult Andrew. As dead as his hope.

Over the years of wandering from one foster family to another with breaks for living in the Minyard orphanage, or Doe, as he was called in the place where his mother gave him as a baby, he realized that most foster parents are scum like his uncle and aunt, like his mother.

Now a fifteen-year-old teenager is sitting on the couch in the office next to the guardianship authorities, the head of the orphanage and, it seems, with his new foster parent. Andrew studies the man who will become his guardian with a cold and indifferent gaze. The guy does not participate at all in the conversation of adults who decide his fate. And why participate if no one asks for his opinion. No one cares about the boy's future life, he realized this a long time ago.

The woman signed several documents related to the adoption and handed them over to the guardian: — "You can pick up the documents and be free. Andrew is your son now."

The boy got up from the sofa and, with his hands behind his back, headed for the door, not wanting to say goodbye to people or talk to his new parent. It's useless. In any case, Andrew will return to this shelter sooner or later.