So I told him all about how I had been mysteriously left alone in a room at Pleasantville Nurturing Hospital, talking about the note that was left and the blanket I was wrapped in. “That’s where you came from, huh? What did the note say?” Casimir asked curiously. “It said, ‘Please take care of Essie, God’s little miracle’,” I told him. He nodded with interest. “So then some chap named Miracle adopted you?” “Yeah,” I said. I talked about my hobbies, my hometown, my school, the contest, my lifestyle, and most importantly, my father. I just left out the part about him being gay. I said that he was a wonderful loving man. But I also breify mentioned that he had his funny ways and that he started to act weird recently. “Well, I guess adults who adopt their kids must cherish and appreciate them more since they can’t have children on their own,” Casimir commented. “At least, it’s that way from my point of view. You see, I wasn’t adopted,” he went on. Then, a thought crossed my mind. “What of your family?” I asked.