Growing up, I very vividly remember having two friends. I had named them Shaapu and Pasheena. Later in conversation with my mother, I was told they were, in fact, imaginary. They were a huge part of everything I did as a kid. They always had a seat next to me on the dining table. Next to my little blue chair in the lawn, there would always be two orange ones, one for Shaapu and the other for Pasheena. I kept two spare pillows in bed for them. Two spare plates during lunch. Two spare glasses. Cups. Out of all my stuffed toys, I had reserved my favorites for them. My mother recalls that as a kid, I would talk to myself a lot. But in my memory, those conversations were shared. Shaapu and Pasheena were my first best friends. To me, they were real enough.