The day was quiet, serene. Though it shouldn't have been, it was. Nothing could change that. Because what should and what is may be two very different concepts, a cross of paths that may depart and reconnect, no one can change the here, and no one can change the now.

It was peaceful, really, in the face of such sorrowful tragedy. An unhappy ending destined to return, and devastate all those involved. A humorous thought, that all could be okay. That all could be good.

When buildings burned, the sky turned a meagre yellow, and rivers ran red- all was okay.

There may be destruction, but tomorrow, there will be sun.

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The morning had started out relatively average, as the sun peeked through the thin, white drapes across the windows. Birds sang, though they were more crows of discontent than a song.

His socked feet were flat against the linoleum floor, cold, and distant. The bright lights shone overhead, leaving nothing to imagination. His hair was in braids, one on either side, as his brown hair sailed across his shoulders, staying just too close to his face for comfort. With a flick of his wrist and a puff of breath, he pushed the itchy strands away from his cheek, though they soon came back to rest upon it.

The nightshirt he wore was scratchy, almost painful, raking thin, white scrapes into his bare back, his shoulders hunched in retaliation.

The bunk bed he was laying on shook slightly as he clambered down the metal ladders, one foot almost slipping from atop the step. When he was close enough, he jumped, both feet hitting the floor practicably, quiet, graceful. Though graceful wasn't a word often used to describe the boy. Barely sixteen, short for his age, and slightly malnourished; he was skin and bones, shaggy hair, and wide, brown eyes. A sort of underfed puppy, in a way. The food was bland, tasteless and underwhelming, and the drink was no better. No, the only real taste he received was of the stolen liquor he stored in the bottom of the closet, but even that was more of a burn.

His roommate was a stale, revolting young man, a year older than he himself, who had a real desire for only two things- sex and sleep. The man lived for sex, he breathed for sex, and that was evident in the many ways he'd returned form the girls rooms not a few doors down. He had no name, not to Alexander at least, though he had a very unique manner; a drunken cat, if you will- all sleep, no care. He didn't often wake, especially not to the practised foot of the younger boy in his room, and he ate the disgusting food as though he were a caveman, savage and reckless. Maybe he'd choke one day.

His sock clad feet slipped silently into his black lace-up boots, and he was out of their shared room before he knew it. The corridor was no better, vomit stained and stinking of sweat. He wouldn't dare venture to the toilet without his footwear on- who knows what he would walk into. Trails of mud tracked the dirty hall, and his rain-soaked boots left no nice pattern behind him. His laces dripped murky city water, and the soles squished with the remnants of puddle-soaked fabric. He'd accidentally left his boots outside during the last rainstorm, and the cold, bareness of his shared room did nothing to dry them- if anything it only made them soak more.

A lone spider scattered past, eight legs moving in tandem, seemingly taking the opportunity to venture out into the empty passage, which in a few hours would find numerous pair of feet wandering down it. He turned, looking behind him, watching as one of the night-lights flickered and dimmed, its life burning out from the source. It wasn't the first, and it wouldn't be the last.

As he made his way down to the male toilets, the seats- those that were left- were stained and piss-covered, remnants from younger boys who had made the journey half-asleep, and the toilet paper dispensers were empty.

He leaned against one of the sinks, hands gripping the off-white ceramic, looking into the fogged, grimy mirror, only to see his own eyes staring back at him. He looked more like a figure of faerie than human, his small, scrawny stature amounting to very little. The braids in his hair had mostly fallen out, save for a few strands held back by the different coloured rubber bands.

Today was the day he was supposed to look good, to look presentable, but really, he only had the urge to look even less put-together. He mussed up his hair, ripping the rubber bands out, along with a few strands of hair, and ran his fingers through the strands roughly, leaving him with a long mess of waves. It hadn't been cut in an obnoxiously long time, something that the boy had been rather vocal about, though nothing had been done about it. Rather than stand and watch the creature in the mirror any longer, he threw his hair back into an unceremonious bun, and snapped a thick, brown rubber band across the whole thing, keeping it roughly in place. Two short, frazzled locks fell before him, across his eyes, before he pulled them tight, pushing them into place to frame his gaunt face.

After loitering in the bathroom for a few minutes more, he dragged himself back to his dreaded room, his roommate in the same place he'd left him, mouth open, a loud, disgruntled snore tearing from his nicotine-coated throat. His breath stank of alcohol and smoke, a futile mix of deep, overwhelming aromas. He changed into more appealing clothes, a simple grey, long-sleeved, worn t-shirt, and a pair of rough, weather-beaten black sweatpants. Where he'd gotten them from, he wasn't sure; perhaps he'd stolen them from his smelly roommate.

When he finally decided to venture out into the cafeteria, it was almost barren, seeing as many of the residents wouldn't come from breakfast for another hour at least. The food was bland, and the best on offer was most probably the lumpy, but hot, oatmeal. Bruised bananas and off-putting toast lines the cafeteria counters, though the thought of shovelling such things into his stomach made him queasy. There was no coffee on offer, though that was no change, but two plastic jugs of water and juice sat untouched on the end of the row of metal rolling-cupboards. He grabbed a large, yellow plastic cup form below the counter, and filled it with what looked like orange juice, though one could never be sure, before picking up his tray, accidentally splashing a small amount of the juice onto his fresh shirt. After choosing a table, though none of them were full, he placed his tray down, before shuffling onto the bench, as he began eating the disgraceful meal.

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Martha and George Washington were a graceful couple, esteemed among many peers, and held in high respect. They had no biological children, though they had adopted a young boy named Lafayette many years ago.

George stood at 6'2", while his wife was short, standing at just above 5'. They were an odd pair when looking at them, though those that knew them would agree that they were perfectly matched. They'd housed a multitude of foster children over the years, supporting those who aged out of the system, and providing support to those still in it.

They hadn't taken on any new foster children as of late, seeing as they'd almost called off their fostering-days. They wouldn't have been visiting the Orphan Asylum Society orphanage had they not received a rather desperate call from their local social worker. They'd been called the night before, asking them to come in to meet a 16 year old boy who'd been at the organization for sometime- in hope that they could place him in a short-term home before he aged out of the system. His report wasn't great, decorated with instances of fighting and bad comments from previous foster parents- though this wasn't uncommon. They'd housed more troubled youths before, and wouldn't hesitate to do it again. They'd witnessed the horrors of the system, and the horrors young people had endured before it, had worked through countless sleepless nights, and nursed many young children and toddlers through sickness, but nothing had deterred them yet.

George was adorned in a straight, white shirt, black slacks and his gold wrist watch, his shoes leather and expensive. Martha was dressed in a similar fashion, a straight pair of navy blue pants and the same coloured jacket. She has a dainty, rose gold chain around her neck, with a delicate rose pendant hanging from the bottom, the colour complimenting her warm, motherly aesthetic. Her slightly-greying hair was pulled back into a neat clip above her neck, and her makeup was minimal. They looked like the perfect, suburban, wealthy couple.

As they walked into the connected garage, George unhooked the keys to their old, convertible black mustang. It was pristine, and fit more into the term 'vintage' than old. She'd been in a dump yard, and it had taken George some time and money to do her up.

The journey was smooth, and they stopped to grab breakfast at a small local café, both confident in their abilities. After getting back onto the road, they made ample small-talk, both with nothing and a lot on their minds simultaneously. The boy may have been trouble in the past, and settling in was always rough, but it was temporary, and they could do it.

Once they reached the orphanage, George parked the mustang, before getting out and opening the door for his wife. They strolled into the main reception together, arms linked, looking very put-together for such a shabby place.

"Hello, may I help you today?" The middle-aged, blonde haired woman spoke up from behind a large desk. Her smile, painted in red lipstick, seemed genuine, even if the rest of her was clearly plastic.

"Hello, we're here to speak to someone about taking on an emergency placement." Martha spoke up quickly, twisting her arms gently against her husbands.

"Okay, if you take a seat just over there I'll get someone down here to get you started." She pointed to a collection of small plastic-looking chairs, and offered them each a coffee.

They sat, flicking through magazines idly, as time crawled by on the off-white clock, it's second hand seeming to slow each time it climbed around the face of it. 

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Please comment what you think, just for me to get an idea of whether anyone would be interested in me continuing this story :)