I grew up in a place called a shelter.

It wasn't bad.

The people who worked there were nice.

But the other people who lived there were loud.

They shouted at me with their sharp voices.

They shouted at nothing.

They shouted with an anger I didn't understand.

Maybe because I was too young.

Maybe because I hadn't been there long enough.

I didn't want to understand their anger.

I tried to smile at them.

Maybe it would make them happier.

It didn't.

It only made them angrier.

I looked different than some of the others...