The matron’s room was situated at the right wing, just before the three stories split into corridors for the boys. The adolescents were on the top floor, while younger students occupied the second and third floors. Because the building was quite old, having been built almost sixty years ago, the corridors were dank and murky. In the times when electricity was scarce, candelabras were placed along the hallways. But now there were spotlights. During sunny days, the tall windows allowed a burst of sun rays into one area, bit due to the narrow nature of the corridors, the light could not penetrate beyond the window.

Classrooms were recently refurbished; blackboard replaced with whiteboards, single desks scraped for benches, and a few pots of plants thrived on the shelves to add some sentiment of home. It was during the days where the lonely classrooms came to life. Boisterous chatter traveled through walls, carrying tales of intellect, friendship or malice. Teachers called for their students, faces pale and deprived of sleep. The cooks welcomed the boys for a relishing breakfast of scones, pancakes and eggs. Boys did not like tea.

    And despite the harmony of the setting, the matron locked herself in her office to continue her work to build a large school. She wanted to separate the boys who ought to be in high school. During the sixty years of the orphanage, demand for admission increased dramatically. More people were leaving little boys outside the front entrance. She forgot to count the amount of times where she heard a baby bawling from the window, and the endless nights where she found a basket, peeled away the covers to find tiny hands and feet kicking in the air.

    The matron’s office was as neat as her sleek presence. There were bookshelves in the corner, stacked with some of her favourite reads. A few flower plants settled around her. On her desk were a few frames of her family. Her favourite one displayed her five-year-old daughter, who was laughing at the camera while dancing in a frozen second in her pretty blue frock. That picture rested closer to all the paperwork. The picture with her late husband was turned over on the desk, a crack visible in the glass that protected the film.

    Outside the office, just next to the ormolu doorknob was an extended box. Also made out of wood. The box was were teachers or other staff would place letters for the matron. In the past, her husband would organize what happened in the orphanage. She never appreciated his efforts. He would come tired after lecturing in physics, and then drive straight to his beloved orphanage, just to make sure that the three hundred boys in the house were looked after.

    One morning, the matron found a stack of envelopes, directed to her in crooked writing. Reading over these crinkled letters, she came to understand that they were from the three boys that her daughter had befriended. They were full of errors and spelling mistakes. But they succeeded in making her heart melt.

From Hongbin to matron (attached was an old, withered map of what appeared to be central Paris):

Dear Matron,

I take this opportunity to say sorry. It was wrong of me to ask Suzy to follow us to the woods. On behalf of Mr. Kitty-, I am very sorry. I've left the map we used so you know how sorry I am. Please don't let Suzy stop being friends with us. She's my best friend and I like playing with her.

Thank you Matron,

Hongbin

P.S I tried to get Mr. Kitty- to sign with his paw, but he's too stubborn. Thank you again.

(This one had terrible writing that made it almost inscrutable.)

From Jongin to matron (attached was a five won bill):

Hello Suzy’s mom,

I am sorry about Saturday in the woods. I want to be Suzy’s friend. I'm even paying you all my pocket money.

Please.

Jongin

(This one had terrible spelling mistakes and punctuation issues.)

From Myungsoo to matron (Nothing was attached but the writing and grammar was surprisingly neat and clever--he was seven after all, the oldest in the group):

Dear Mrs. Bae,

I know you are angry but please know that we meant no harm to Suzy. I know we broke your trust. I never knew my mother, so I don't know what it's like to be loved by one. So I can't understand anything. But I know that every mother cares for their child. Suzy is a great friend. I hope that you will let her play with us. I promise I won't let anything happen to her.

From a boy who you gave shelter to,

Myungsoo

    When Headmaster Junki entered the room, he found the matron sitting by her desk, tears glittering in the sunlight.