Kwangmi sat in the waiting room after signing her name onto the clipboard at the front desk. It was a cooler autumn afternoon compared to the summer weather she had grown accustomed to. It was Friday after school. This was the only time she could maintain a weekly appointment. She didn't have cram school on Fridays, giving her just enought time for an hour-long session before the counseling agency closed. She was literally their last appointment.

"Woo Kwangmi?" a voice questioned confidently. The plump woman didn't even look anywhere else. Kwangmi was the only one in the room.

The young girl stood with a confirming,"Yes."

"My name is Ju Mie. Now, if you will follow me, my office is just down here." The large woman turned and rounded the corner by the desk, bustling down a long, carpeted hallway before taking another left. There was only one door open in this hall. Just before Kwangmi entered the room, she heard another door open, allowing male voices to slip through. Kwangmi kept her face hidden and rushed in, closing the door behind her quickly. She didn't want anyone else to know she was there.

The room was well lit by a large window that looked out over the city below. Organized files and a computer adorned the top of a desk in the right-hand corner. Also in the room stood a small bookshelf holding leather bound topes. Ju Mie sat in a large cushioned chair directly opposite a long, comfortable-looking sofa. She motioned for Kwangmi to do the same. Kwangmi didn't want to. She didn't like this illusion of comfort. She didn't want to relax. She would have rathered a hard, plastic chair, or even the ground. But, reluctantly, she sat on the very edge of the cushions. A low coffee table separated the two woman, and when Kwangmi glanced up, she saw certificates and other documents of importance framed on the wall behind the therapist. Kwangmi scowled.

How vain, boasting ones accomplishments on the wall, in a place where I can see them at all times. Kwangmi was not impressed.

"Now this session is just to get to know you as a person," Ju Mie explained.

'As a person.' What else am I? A piece of meat? Kwangmi acknowleged she was being cynical and decided to curb her mean thoughts.

As politely as she could muster, Kwangmi asked, "What would you like to know?"

"What do you like to do? What are your hobbies?" The counselor pulled out a clipboard and pen. The gesture made Kwangmi even more uncomfortable. "Oh, don't mind this, dear. This is just to help me keep tabs on what happens in these sessions. I'm just going to write down what your responses are to my questions."

Kwangmi nodded apprehensively. "I like photography."

"Oh?" Ju Mie exclaimed with seeming fake excitement. "What got you into that?"

"My grandmother and I used to be really close before she died. She's the one who taught me the love of keeping memories in picture form." As an afterthought, Kwangmi added, "I especially like taking pictures of old things."

"Why is that?"

"Because it feels like I'm keeping a part of its memory here, to be remembered and cherished."

"What kinds of things do you take pictures of?"

Kwangmi shrugged. "Whatever catches my eye. I've taken pictures of rusted old wagons, barns that are falling apart, open fields, old people, sunlight streaming through leaves, little children playing..." Kwangmi trailed off as she thought about her portfolio and all the pictures in it. "I started off with a simple polaroid camera, one my grandmother gave me, but eventually I got all techy. Started sticking my fingers in all the pies, per say."

"So would you say you're good at it?" her counselor asked, maybe a bit too casually.

"Oh yeah. I took a photography class this summer and I was one of the best."

Ju Mie wrote something down. The good mood that had been building up in Kwangmi evaporated in an instant.

"What else are you good at?"

Kwangmi shrugged. "Lots of things? None that come to mind at this instant."

"It could be as little as jumping on the trampoline," she encouraged.

"I said nothing comes to mind." The girl's voice was ice.

The woman seemed unconcerned about this, but did change the subject. "Who is the person you are closest to?"

"My brother," was Kwangmi's instant reply.

"What's his name?" Ju Mie made another note.

"Kevin."

"And what is he like?"

"Nice?" Kwangmi wasn't sure how much she wanted to divulge to this woman, but becauese she had agreed to come here to 'get better,' she decided to at least give it a try. "He's the one who practically raised me. My father is a CEO for a string of hotels around the world. I don't even know where he's at anymore. My mother is a fashion designer and spends most of her time in France and Italy. For awhile when we were younger, they would take my brother and me with them, but then it got to the point where it was interfering with our education. So they got us this cute little condo here in Seoul and a nanny. When Kevin turned 17, he told our nanny that we could care for ourselves. Our parents' income keeps the bills paid, we have everything we need and then some. But when it comes to family, we are all we've got."

To her credit, Ju Mie set aside the clip board. "So how long has it been since you've seen your parents?"

Kwangmi scoffed. "Together? At the same time? In person? Maybe six years. One of them usually tries to make it for Christmas, but even that is getting sparse."

"What about birthdays?"

"Kevin and I are the only ones who celebrate our birthdays. We used to get a call, too, from out parents. But we haven't gotten a call for our past two birthdays." Kwangmi clutched at her knees. "You'd think they'd at least send a card, a text. You'd think they'd care about the children they created and brought into this world. They don't. Or if they do, they're doing a hell of a job showing it."

"Have you ever considered-"

"Oh, I've considered lots of explanations. That they are only doing this to make sure my brother and I have enough money to live in comfort. So we can go to college and get set up with our own futures. I'm sure they think they are being excellent examples of successful people who followed their dreams. They must have all the good intentions in the world. They probably don't even know how much I hate them." Kwangmi's glare could have burned through cement. Reigning in her anger, she took a deep breath. "But it's fine. I have Kevin. He's the one who's been there for me all those years. He was there when I started my first period. He was there for all of my scrapes and bruises. He was there when I had nightmares. And he may not be perfect, but he's damn close."

That was the second time she had sworn. She was turning into a sailor.

"It seems like you have a lot of resentment towards your parents."

"It seems like it?" Sarcasm dripped like acid honey from her words. "Wow, all those certificates are really showing. I never would have figured that out for myself." Kwangmi steadied herself again. "I'm sorry. That was rude. Forgive me. I- I'm not usually like this."

"Don't worry about offending me. Believe me, I've heard a lot worse." Ju Mie brushed off her criticism with ease and with no ruffled feathers. "But tell me about how you usually are. There promises to be a delightful girl in those words."

So Kwangmi did. She recounted how she used to be, the happy-go-lucky girl who climbed trees, whose curiosity got her into some sticky situations (like the time she was ten and got chased by a territorial bull dog when she tried to find a shortcut home from school), and more than a little whimsical at times. She told of a girl who had learned to be independent when there wasn't anyone to make a cake for Kevin's birthday when he was turning 14 (That nanny really wasn't adept at baking, and Kwangmi had wanted it to be from scratch.). Then how that same girl soon learned the lesson it was okay to ask for help when her brother found her crying on the floor amongst a blanket of flour, a burnt, lumpy thing sending smoke signals out of the oven. Kwangmi explained how a girl who was not raised by loving parents learned to be loving to all around her so they wouldn't feel the rejection she felt. This girl she spoke of had lived a hard life, but she was stronger all the more for it, and had decided to be the naiive little adventurer. Because what fun would life be without a few unplanned adventures? And what would an adventure be without a few scrapes?

By the end of their hour, both women were smiling.

"Well," Ju Mie started regretfully, "we are out of time, but let me say this one thing before we leave." Kwangmi listened carefully, realizing that this woman wasn't as bad as she had originally believed. And the next words solidified that opinion. "Most people who come to me are looking to be changed. They want to become something better, but they don't know how. They sometimes don't even know what that better person is. But you, Kwangmi, you are someone who is already better than most. That girl that we've been talking about today is still you, and you are just on another adventure. This is the part where it's really hard and everything seems hopeless. This adventure you can't do alone. But that is why I am here. That is why you have your brother. We can help you. Besides, aren't journeys more fun with friends to tag along?"

Kwangmi's smile broadened. "Yes. Yes they are." And for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to feel a little ray of hope.

Ju Mie nodded agreeably. "Excellent. Now I hope next time I hope we can discuss how this hard part started. Then we'll see what we can do about getting to that buried treasure."

The girl's smile froze in place and as she bade goodbye to her new therapist and walked onto the busy street, a knot of foreboding wound itself in the pit of her stomach. She didn't realize it would happen so soon. She wasn't ready. But she would have to be. She would have to talk about that night. The night a little part of herself was defeated in the battle and died.