Haera

When I was kid, I had a dream being in a film set—people running here and there carrying equipment, bunch of lights and cameras surrounding them, three actors on standby in the middle, and a man sitting on a high chair near a camera, focused at the actors, giving directions. It’s always the same scene for a year. Then the scene changed into the man, the one who’s sitting in the high chair, carrying me on his lap, making a little boy, along with me, to read a script. I never got to read it out loud in the dream.

            Those dreams took me to playwriting. My mother said that I used to cry a lot when I was a toddler, but I’ll stop crying whenever they turn the television on for me. I like watching movies as a kid, but my brother never likes it. He prefers music.

            I was laying in my bed, reading a book called The Alchemist, when I heard a knock, I muttered a ‘come in’ and Jongin poked his head around the door. “Hey,” he said with a smile, “can I go in?”

            “I just told you.” I rolled my eyes on him. He went in and sit at the edge of my bed.

Jongin and I are in the same age. I was adopted at age 1. We’re not keeping it a secret, but we’re not publicizing it either. It was my last year in grade school when they told me about it. I was sad, but not mad at them. I kind of expected it already because there is no way that Jongin and I are twins.

We grew up telling people that we’re twins, even after I find out the truth.

I was left in the orphanage wrapped in a blanket by my real brother who just left a note according to the head nun from the orphanage. I was an orphan for 2 months before the Kims gladly adopted me officially. The