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"You guys decided to go to the supermarket, only to buy one single chocolate syrup?" The perplexed expression on Bryn face can be considered comical, but I'm still busy on planning how to get the secret out of Constance's mouth. "You guys could just go to any convenient store for this one item," Bryn is shaking her as she slowly scans the chocolate syrup's bar code. For all these years, I still have no idea how those bar codes and scanner became a thing for purchasing an item. All I know is there's some cool technology stuff behind making a bar code for an item.

"That's true, but I just want some kind of reason to great an old friend." Constance smiles at Bryn, and I'm beginning to wonder how many friends does Constance have all around this small-town.

"If there's a reason why you want to see me, it's probably the best time to tell me." Bryn looks indecisive whether she should put the chocolate syrup into a paper bag or let us carry it in our hands. "Do y'all want to use a paper bag or nah?"

"We can just hold it in our hands," Constance awkwardly reaches for the chocolate syrup in Bryn's hand. Once she has the chocolate syrup in her hand, she gazes thoughtfully at me, then quickly glances back to Bryn. "To respond to the statement you have said earlier, I just want to ask for some advice."

"Look, Connie—" Bryn glances at me before continuing, "—that's her nickname, by the way, if you want to use it." Aw, Connie sounds so cute. I would definitely use that nickname for the teasing.

Constance—well, Connie—begins to shake her head before giving me a quick frown. "No one had called me that since I was a child," The frown from her face immediately fade out of her and have replaced by a sheepish smile. A red-faced Constance might be the second-best expression on her. A smiling Constance still stands tall on the first podium.

Bryn seems to have covered her mouth with a hand to hide the fact that she's chuckling at Constance embarrassment. "Anyway, what kind of advice do you seek?"

A sigh escapes from Constance as if she's fighting a dilemma in her mind, "I just want to figure out how a person could be brave enough to share something tragic without getting overwhelmed by emotions." The way she phrases that statement tells me she's embarrassed enough to even hide something from me. I want to reassure her that secrets that are left untold just to protect one's well-being is better than spilling it by force. "The guilt of hiding something from someone who's probably been honest with me from the beginning is getting heavier and heavier every day."

I'm undoubtedly confused on why she's having this conversation with a friend when I'm literally right beside her. Is she trying to give me a sign so that I won't be disappointed about her hiding something from me? If so, then she's more careful with her relationship than I was. There's a voice at the back of my mind whispering the question, "What if I had met Constance sooner? What then?"

"Connie, if you're feeling guilty, then that's the sign that you should be brave and say something." The concern on Bryn's face makes me think of a lover mother casts a worry look to her child. I assume Bryn acts like a second mother for Constance. In the beginning I thought Irene was her second mother, but now, I think I was wrong. "Nothing great will come if you keep holding on to that guilt."

Constance lets out a heavy sigh from her lungs, "I know." She looks down on the ground as if she's reading some kind of secret message on the floor. I begin to glance down to the floor as well, but there ain't no secret messages, all I received is Constance soft chuckling. I dig that she had noticed me imitating her, and the sound of her laughter alone made me forget that she's having a dilemma. "You know what? Perhaps it's time to be brave," When both Bryn and I nod at her statement, she beams us the widest smile I had ever seen from her. "Life is short anyway," She shrugs both of her shoulders and I can feel the wariness emitting from Bryan's concern face when she heard Constance said that last statement.

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