You’ve been trailing my ass since you were barely half my height. Nowhere to go; a wayward child just like I was. I took you in ‘cause it was the good thing to do — and you wouldn’t stop following me, anyway.

When you started stealing my clothes from me, I minded at first, but you had one pair and I had four, so it seemed unfair. Then you started walking like me, and talking like me, and acting like I do. It was funny, and it was cute, but then you started getting sad about it.

I asked you what was wrong one day and eventually you spilled out that you wanted to be a boy. I was okay with that. Let a kid be whatever the hell they wanna be; who was gonna tell you differently, anyhow? So you became my little boy after that.

One night we’re eating food around a fire I’ve built. We had to go on the run again because I got into a fight with our landlord’s son. He was older than me and therefore thought he was superior, but that’s besides the point.

You say something about wanting to be just like me, and I nearly choke on the beans I’m eating. I have to sit the can down on the ground beside me and cough for a minute.

“You what?” I ask, trying to make sure I heard you correctly.

Like me? I don’t think so.