Laying on the bed in my room, I read through my phone.
Lesly Lane was adopted by an old grandma in an isolated village. She was picked up at three to four years old, injured and disheveled. My stepmother had not been a registered citizen until she was around the age to start school, the county major only then heard of the existence of an undocumented child in his county. He decided to get everything done without grand formalities, as she had lived a few years with the old grandma before, and nobody had come to pick her up. The old woman named her Lesly Lane, and she was the unofficial guardian until she died when Lesly was twelve years old.