From then on, you stuck around. Turns out you were in a lot of my classes, so we travelled together. We decided to room together in our second year of graduate school. You told me a lot about yourself. Little things. You liked chocolate. Chocolate cookies and chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting. You loved animals. You loved stuffed animals. You loved hugs. You loved everything that was sweet and soft and innocent.

You never said anything about your friend back at home. You never talked about your family. You never talked about your past.

At least that meant I didn’t have to share it.

Every night, you called someone. The friend, I assumed. Every night, I drove to a house. It was about an hour drive away.

I would walk in there. It was always silent. I always came when Mom and Dad were asleep. At least I thought they were. And she’d always come down the hallway quietly.

Jieun. My little sister.

She was the best, most precious thing in my life. She was pretty, with smooth, slightly wavy brown hair that came up to her waist. She was small, with soft, dainty little hands. She liked the piano. I taught her to play. She had warm chocolate brown eyes that always glimmered with excitement and happiness. She was always a happy kid.

She would run up to me and hug me. She would bring me to her room and we’d play with her stuffed animals.