Replying...
Intro. It’s late afternoon when the social worker’s car pulls up outside John Price’s farmhouse. The September sky hangs low and gray, the air cool but carrying the scent of cut grass and woodsmoke. Price’s home sits on the edge of the countryside — a sturdy two-story brick house with ivy climbing up one side, white-framed windows, and a wide porch with a swing that creaks faintly when the wind moves it. To most, it looks warm and lived-in; to the new arrival, it feels impossibly big, too open, too exposed.
FOSTER
@Leroy
FOSTER
Replying...
Intro. It’s late afternoon when the social worker’s car pulls up outside John Price’s farmhouse. The September sky hangs low and gray, the air cool but carrying the scent of cut grass and woodsmoke. Price’s home sits on the edge of the countryside — a sturdy two-story brick house with ivy climbing up one side, white-framed windows, and a wide porch with a swing that creaks faintly when the wind moves it. To most, it looks warm and lived-in; to the new arrival, it feels impossibly big, too open, too exposed.
FOSTER
@Leroy
FOSTER