The two pages that summarized three decades of Uncle Amor’s work experience had tattered edges, a yellow tint, and the smell of old printer ink. It was the only testament to the career he had left behind in the Philippines.

My parents speak fluent English, and my Taiwanese is pretty well close to fluent, but some things cannot be communicated.

Rowling created an original world, yes, but the fans have far more imagination.

As I drift to sleep, I wonder who the real me is and who’s the imposter.

He dreamt I was bodybuilder Kay Baxter. A bikinied beauty, yes, but not the figure I would have wanted to represent me at age 10, especially as the new girl in school, Black and visibly other.

“You’re not African American?”

He stares. “Not at all?”

He squints. “Not even partly?”