Three

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"Honey are you okay?" The worry in her voice was clear and conspicuous. Truth be told, ever since that encounter with Mr. Crosby, my mind has been swarming with memories of Nicholas and me.

"Mom. What would you do if you saw grandpa again?"

With Dad working the hours, it was just mom and I tonight.

"I don't understand what you're saying." My mom, who had now stopped eating, gave her full attention to me.

"What I'm trying to say is what if there was someone that looked like grandpapa, but in actual fact, it is just...another person? What will you do if you meet him?" I knew how much my mom loved grandpa, that is why I needed to hear what she had to say.

"Honey, just because things seem to be the same, doesn't mean that they will always be the same. I love your grandpa. But I would rather hold on to the memories that we had than to attempt to rebuild them with someone else solely based on their appearance."

"Mmm..." I replied knowingly.

"Is everything alright?" My mom, who have seemed to notice the distress on my face questioned with a voice wrapped in concern.

"It's just a thought!" I exclaimed, stuffing a forkful of mash potatoes down my stomach.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course!" Proceeding to gobble a huge chunk of spaghetti, which earned a look of disgust by my mom.

"Eeeshh, but I'm worried about your eating etiquette."

"What?" I protested, my mouth looking like that of a chipmunk that was fully stuffed with acorn.

"You were able to eat so beautifully before, but now you're just..." She sighed, resorting to ignore my existence while I simply shrugged her comments away.

Let's just say that I fluent in switching between two etiquettes.

As the evening grew darker, I retreated into the solitude of my room, dousing myself in a warm and relaxing shower before falling face-flat into the comfort of my bed; letting the exhaustion from today, engulf me. As if on cue, images of that man surfaced, instilling a mix of longing and sadness that sent my heart into a dull ache. Nicholas. Or rather Nathan.

Shaking my head, I clutched the bedsheets, feeling an unspeakable need to tell someone about today's event. I grabbed the phone that laid by my side and dialed the number that has always been my go-to whenever I'm in distress.

I wonder if she's still awake.

"What's up?" The voice spoke as the line went through on the other side.

"Hey Al. Are you free?"

"Av, I'm always free for you. So, what's going on?" She asked. As usual, her bubbly voice always seemed to comfort and cheer me up. But this magic of hers just did not seem to work today as I kept silent, thinking of a way to explain the situation.

Alice, who seemed to detect that I was a little troubled, continued, "Av...? Are you okay?" her voice now dripping with a tinge of anxiousness. My tongue remained tied as I searched for the right words.

"Av...talk to me."

"Do you remember the story I told you 5 years ago?" Finally, a sentence that I managed to get out.

"Yeah."

"Well, you see...I saw him..."

"What do you mean you saw him? Who did you see?" I cleared my throat, praying that I do not sound crazy to her. "Av, who did you see?" She said once more, this time in a firmer tone.

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