We keep on moving, trying to find the perfect family.
Again.
I stared outside from the train my mom and I are in. Field of green like broccoli stretch on from what I can tell, miles and miles. The other side, from what I peeked at, had houses arranged from mansions to apartments organized neatly as a new book. This place looks so ordinary from what I can see. All of the other places had color, this place fells like old movies, black, whites and brown painted the streets.
Someone taps my shoulder casually, “Honey, I know this is hard for you” my mom admitted.
I glance to my side, “I know you are tired of moving all of the time, but I think”- “This is the one, you said that already like 6 times now, Mom” I counter, looking back