The orphanage of Mauville was a small, square-shaped building in the outskirts of the city.
From its classic detached outlay, so different from the modern, multi-storey complexes that had been built a couple years ago in the centre of the city,
it wasn't difficult to tell the approximate age of the institution. In all of the years it had been running, the children's house had never been the greatest or the fanciest building around.
But now it wasn't even the shadow of what it had been about fifty years ago; one could immediately tell just by passing by the rickety front fence and looking up to the chipped walls,
covered in faded layers of once colourful paintings, and the broken swing set in the lawn, fixed with a dangerously shaggy old rope.
Still, despite its lamentable outside state, the inside of the building seemed to make up to an extent for the look of the whole complex.
Although lacking in size - the house had never sheltered more than thirty children altogether - the colourful walls were lined up with hundreds of the children's drawings and advice signs
for the kids about minding personal hygiene and courtesy.
The old-fashioned infantile furniture wasn't precisely the embodiment of elegance, what with all the glittery stickers and the round corners,
but it definitely was the best suited for a house full of toddlers. Even the administrative office and the waiting room for couples next to it had a childish atmosphere to their décor.
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