Vera.

  Bright One said, "That's your name."

  A name... what is it?

  Big One and Bright One argued when they were deciding on my name. But this time, it wasn’t scary. It wasn’t like the people in the alley fighting—no hitting, no throwing things, no blood. They were talking, but they didn’t leave, didn’t get angry.

  Their voices were just a little loud.

  “She should be called Mira, she’s an ordinary miracle,” said Big One.

  “She should be called Vera, she truly exists,” said Bright One.

  They said many things I didn’t understand. In the end, Bright One looked at me, squatted down, patted my head, and said, “Vera.”

  “Vera?”

  “That’s your name.”

  A name… does it represent me?

  Big One looked at me, opened his mouth, and said, “Vera.”

  I looked up at Big One.

  Just like when Bright One says “water,” and I know I can drink it.

  Vera…. is me.

  ——

  Big One taught me many things.

  “This—cut.” He held a shiny object and divided food into pieces. I tried to copy him. My hands were unsteady, the cuts were crooked, and they looked ugly.

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  “It’s okay, try again.” He wasn’t angry. He gave me another piece.

  It was hard. But I learned. Because when I learned, Big One would pat my head.

  He taught me other things too. How to block with my hands, how to kick with my legs, how to grab others so I wouldn't fall. At first it hurt. When I hit the ground, my hands turned red. But Big One patted my head again and let me try once more.

  “Try again, Vera. Only when you can protect yourself, have you grown up.”

  I didn’t understand. It was hard. But I learned. Because when I did well, Big One would pat my head.

  ——

  Bright One taught me “words.”

  A thick object—when opened, it had black curving things and pictures.

  “Story,” she said.

  “Sto… ry?”

  “A story is…” She thought for a bit, pointed at a picture in the book, and said, “a world.”

  “A world?”

  I didn’t understand. I asked Bright One, “My world—is it here?”

  Bright One smiled.

  I kept looking at the book, the pictures, the words. I couldn’t read, so Bright One pointed to each one, teaching me slowly.

  “This is ‘beauty.’”

  “Beauty?”

  “Beauty is… something that looks good, something people like.”

  “Beauty…”

  I looked at the picture in the book. It showed tall trees, bright flowers, a person standing by the water, the wind blowing her clothes.

  “Is this beauty?” I asked.

  Bright One smiled, patted my head, and said, “Yes.”

  Bright One looked like that person, so she was beauty too.

  ——

  One day, Big One looked at me and said, “Nox.”

  “…Nox?”

  “I am Nox.” He pointed at himself. “Nox is me.”

  Bright One smiled and said, “Luma.”

  “Luma?”

  “Luma is me.” She pointed at herself.

  I looked at them and thought for a moment.

  “Vera.” I pointed at myself.

  Vera is me.

  What did this moment feel like to you?