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You look exactly like your twin brother. Exactly. You think like him, for him, with him, cannot live without him. Cannot. Don't want to. Don't want to. Other kids play Hide & Seek. But you and he play Hide & Be. Your parents died when you were two. The foster parents were sometimes nice and sometimes awful. They could never tell you apart because one of you would hide; the other would just be. Be bad. Be blamed. Be good. Get the Jesus Strap. Get the ice cream cone. There were always eyes on you, then him. Wondering which one you were. There were always voices in your head, his. They can't judge you because you could always be him, or you. You did not need friends because you are his and he is yours. You learn you don't need anyone else; they can't see you, just him. Or are they looking at him, not you? If one of you dies, the other will be. You.