When I got back from visiting the place where my prince died, I started to look through more of the boxes I got from the orphanage a few years back from the investigators. Some of the boxes were filled with some strange things in them, like ribbons, marbles, and clothes pins.
Another box had some things that looked like they were suppose to be in a collection, like some seasonal perfume bottles and a set of noble-looking knives. One box had storybooks that we made and some books from the library. Another box was full of vinyl albums. I remember many of these songs where played when we were doing the annual cleaning.
But out of all the boxes, there was one box that held the most memories. It had all of the photo albums from when the Rose Garden Orphanage first opened up with it's first orphans to several weeks before the massacre with it's last ones.
As I looked through all of the albums, I saw how all of the adults changed. Mr. Hoffman had barely any wrinkles when the orphanage started