Dominic paused, his mind racing as he tried to process Key's words. "What do you mean you remember buying this? This belonged to my mother!" he said in disbelief, a hint of irritation evident in his voice.

Key's expression wove a tapestry of confusion, surprise, and a bit of sadness. "I don't understand either. In the memory I had, I got it from Goldman's Antique Shop. Goldman himself sold it to me," he explained, trying to make sense of the situation as well.

Goldman's Antique Shop was a well-known store in Greenville a few blocks away from the plaza where they stood. Its legacy spanned long before Dominic's birth, and Goldman himself had witnessed the youthful days of Dominic's parents when they were just teenagers.

So how could that have been possible? Dominic couldn't fathom how Key, seemingly his age, could have bought his parent's vestige. Certainly, whatever bracelet Key had bought, this wasn't it.

"This doesn't sound crazy to you? For that to be true, you would've had to know my dad back when he was a teenager," Dominic pointed out. "You're what.. 17?"

"I.. don't remember," Key admitted, sadness tinging each word. "But at least we have another clue. We can check out Goldman's. Maybe he remembers. It may just jog my memory too."

"I can't just skip work to go play detective with you," Dominic said firmly.

"Why not?" Key's disappointment was visible.

"Because this is stupid. I don't know you any more than you know me. You follow me home from the cemetery, claiming to be a ghost. You seem to have everyone going with this elaborate scheme to make me seem crazy. For all I know, you and Joel, along with everyone else, are trying to make it look like I'm unstable to get rid of me without the hassle!"

"Look, man, I get it. I don't know much but based on what Celia told me I know you lost parents. I can't even fathom the pain you're feeling right now," Key expressed, his face softening despite Dominic's irritation and paranoia.

"I'm asking for a lot, I know. It's so selfish actually but I don't have anybody else. No memories, no home. No nothing. I don't even wanna be here right now. Begging and pleading with a total stranger for help because I'm invisible to everyone else," Key's voice cracked, the mask of composure slipping to unveil the raw pain underneath.

Dominic, confronted by Key's heartfelt words, felt a surge of empathy. Suddenly, the weight of his selfishness and suspicion became burdensome. He recognized sorrow— a feeling all too familiar to him— as an universal language.

"I didn't follow you because I thought you could help me, I hoped that you would. I do get it though. I'll try to find the answers to my life myself so you, at least, try to enjoy yours," Key said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder before leaving him standing in the parking lot.

Dominic felt terrible. Had he always been this selfish? He wondered. With this self-reflection came a pang of regret. Memories of his father's wisdom echoed in his mind once again.

'It's never too late to do a good thing.'

Dominic clung to these words, seeing them as a beacon of possibility for redemption and change.

"Wait!" He shouted, halting Key in his tracks.  "I'll come with you." The sudden decision hung in the air, and Dominic felt a mixture of uncertainty and newfound determination.

The excitement painted Key's face with an unmistakable, broad grin. "Well, what are we waiting for? Start the van!" Key exclaimed, bounding back over to him.

"Why? Goldman's isn't too far from here."

"We have to go get Celia first," Key responded, a sense of urgency and mystique lingered his voice. "I'll explain later."

Rolling his eyes, Dominic hastily made his way back into the supermarket to retrieve his bag.

"Hey Steve, I'm leaving early today. Tell Martin I'm not feeling too good," Dominic lied.

"Of course, you don't," Steve muttered, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Dominic exited the supermarket, only to discover Key casually seated in the front of his van.

"How on earth did you know this was my van?" he demanded, tossing his bag into Key's lap in a mix of annoyance and bewilderment.

Unfazed by the action, Key simply shrugged off the question."I'm observant."

"A stalker is what you are," Dominic mumbled under his breath, smoothly backing the car out of the parking space.

"What was that?" Key questioned.

"Nothing," Dominic lied, speeding out of the parking lot. "So, where are we headed?"

"To Maybourne, of course," Key replied, as though it was the most natural destination.

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When they finally arrived at the cemetery, Dominic parked the van in front of the gate.

In the distance, he could make out Celia kneeling by her sister's grave, her face hidden by the gravestone before her.

The sight of her grief-stricken figure, so young and yet so profoundly touched by loss, stirred a deep sadness within him. She, too, was grappling with the pain of losing someone immensely dear to her, navigating through the sorrow years after the fact.

He frowned as he looked at his watch. St. Peter's school was still in session, likely just resuming classes post-lunch. Given the rules, students weren't permitted to leave the premises until the school day concluded. Yet there stood Celia, her uniform as disheveled as it had been during their encounter that morning, prompting Dominic to wonder.

Could she have been here all morning?

"Celia!" Key's voice cut through the air, beckoning her over with a wave of his hand as he stuck his head out the van.

Dominic watched from the driver's seat, his curiosity piquing as Celia made her way towards them. The way Key called out to her, laden with an unspoken urgency, left Dominic wondering about the necessity of her presence.

"Why do we need to get Celia again?" Dominic questioned, attempting to unravel the mystery behind Key's insistence.

Key returned inside, his features tightening into a frown. For a moment, it seemed like he would divulge the reason, his lips parting slightly as if to speak. Yet, just as quickly, he closed them, sealing away his thoughts as he stuck his head out of the vehicle once more.

Meanwhile, Celia had reached the gate of Maybourne. The grandeur of its rusty ironwork loomed before her as she stood there, her hands weaving through its open crevices. She leaned forward, resting on the cold metal, her gaze fixed on them.

"Key was it? What do you want?!" Her voice carried a mix of curiosity and impatience as she addressed him from behind the gate.

Her eyes found Dominic's figure in the car, her expression softened into a sweet smile. "Oh, it's you," her tone warmed considerably.

Caught off guard by her sudden attention, Dominic could only manage a close-mouthed smirk in return. His response was automatic, yet it carried an unspoken acknowledgment of their interaction this morning. She still wore the poppy he had placed in her hair, the red petals accentuating the beauty of her face.

"Dominic," he finally introduced himself, his name lingering in the space between them.

"So that's your name," Key remarked with a playful nudge. "How come you told her but not me?"

"You never asked," Dominic simply shrugged.

"What do you want?" Celia asked again, the wind carrying her voice in the sharp evening air.

"I'll fill you in on the way. Can't you hop in?" Key asked, opening the door for her.

"You know I can't do that," Celia's tone was a combination of frustration and sadness.

"Why not?" Dominic interjected, his confusion obvious. This strange dynamic between Celia and Key raised questions about their relationship. It sounded like they both knew something that he didn't.

"Trust me on this! I have a feeling that this time could be different," Key insisted, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Dominic watched the exchange with furrowed brows, trying to piece together the puzzle. If no one else could see Key, how come Celia could?

His thoughts were interrupted by the slow creaking of Maybourne's gates opening. He observed Celia's hesitant expression and furrowed brow as she stepped out, her face reflecting apprehension. With a sigh, she moved towards the van, uncertainty evident within her features.

"Why can she see you?" Dominic asked before she entered the vehicle.

"I don't know," Key said, exiting to give Celia his seat beside Dominic.

He watched as they exchanged worried looks with each other before he turned the van around, heading to the antique shop.

Although they had all met for the first time a day ago, there was currently an unspoken connection in the air. Today felt different, as if Key and Celia's story went beyond the brief period of their acquaintance, leaving Dominic with the persistent feeling that there was more to the two than meets the eye.

"I can't believe it!" Celia broke the silence, her hands running over her face and body.

"I told you," Key beamed from the far end of the seat.

"Where are we going?" She turned to Dominic, eagerness replacing her unease.

"To Goldman's Antique Shop," Dominic answered. "And what can't you believe?"

She hesitated before responding, ultimately choosing not to answer at all. Dominic, sensing the shift in mood, attempted to lighten the atmosphere with a different question.

"Did you ditch school today?"

"What if I did?" She shot back defiantly.

"Then I'd have to tell your parents," Dominic joked, trying to provoke a lighter response.

"Good luck with that. I haven't seen them in years," she replied, her tone a bit woeful.

Just as Dominic was about to delve deeper into her past, Key interrupted.

"The night you kicked me out, it was Celia who told me about the hostel," Key said abruptly.

"How is that relevant to—" Dominic began, but Key cut him off.

"We're here!" Key announced loudly, effectively ending the conversation as Dominic pulled over in front of Goldman's.

He decided to ignore their suspicious behavior for now while they all exited the car, the crisp evening air seeming to pull them as they stood on the sidewalk.

Goldman's storefront was an embodiment of quaint charm and subtle neglect— its facade adorned with chipped paint that might have been a vibrant shade of green once but was now faded into a muted copy of its former self.

Gold letters, elegant yet worn by time, spelled out the name of the establishment on the sign hanging above. As they pushed the door open, a chorus of wind chimes greeted them—a delicate sound that seemed almost out of place amidst the visual decay, yet it added an undeniable allure to the atmosphere.

The interior of Goldman's was dim and musty, the scent of old furniture and rotting wood lingering in the air. Dust particles danced in the beams of light filtering in from outside as the sunlight struggled to penetrate the gloom.

A selection of the antiques were meticulously encased in protective glass shells, safeguarding them from the touch of time and human hands. These enclosures gleamed faintly in the sparse light granted by the dull glow of a chandelier hanging in the ceiling. In contrast, other items sat boldly in the open, too grand or perhaps too robust to be confined. These included imposing pieces of furniture like oak dining tables with clawed feet, ornate mahogany wardrobes that towered towards the ceiling, and velvet-upholstered armchairs that beckoned with a promise of stories from bygone eras.

Goldman's was renowned for its eclectic collection of items, each with its own story and vintage allure.

Celia and Key dispersed into the store, their attention captured by the diverse collections on display as they explored Goldman's curations.

"Welcome to Goldman's. Can I help- Oh, Nic? Is that you?" The voice, rich with surprise and familiarity, halted him in his tracks. Emerging from behind the employee door was Crystal Norbrooke, a beacon of nostalgia from Dominic's past.

Crystal wasn't just any acquaintance; she was Dominic's first friend during his middle school years and their friendship was a constant throughout their lives until Crystal moved away during their junior year of high school.

Words failed him as he stared at Crystal, who seemed to have effortlessly bridged the gap of years with her presence. Her hair, a cascade of fluffy brown curls, formed an afro that seemed to challenge gravity itself. Each curl danced with a life of its own, framing her face in a halo of softness as her smile reached her eyes, lighting them up with warmth and recognition.

"What are you doing? Say something!" Key appeared at his side, nudging him with his elbow.

"C-crystal? What are you doing here?" he managed to stammer out, words barely forming as the counter stood between them.

"Oh, I moved back home for a few months. My dad advised that volunteering would make a good impression on my resume since I start college next year. He asked Mr. Goldman if I could help out so here I am," her enthusiasm hard to miss.

Crystal's cheerful demeanor quickly faded as Dominic remained silent, lost in his thoughts. Memories of the last time he saw her flooded his mind - the unexpected kiss she had planted on his lips before leaving for California. He had been taken aback by her bold gesture, unsure of how to react. The image of her standing in front of her house, her eyes filled with a mix of excitement and sadness, lingered in his mind for weeks after she had gone.

As Crystal's frown deepened, Dominic finally snapped out of his reverie. He realized that the mood had shifted, the air now somber.

"I am so sorry. Here I am, all giddy to see you forgetting that you're going through a tough time. I heard about your parents. They were the best. I miss them too," she lamented.

Dominic's expression hardened as he felt the familiar grip of depression threatening to engulf him once more.

"It's okay, Crystal," he said lowly.

"Uhm, so how can I help you today? Come to buy an antique? Never took you for a vintage kinda guy," she tried to lighten the mood.

"Actually, I was hoping to have a word with Mr. Goldman. Is he here?" Dominic asked.

"Yeah, he's in the back. I'll go get him for you," she told him before disappearing behind the staff door.

"Who was that? She knew your parents? She definitely has a thing for you! See how she couldn't stop smiling?" Key bombarded him with questions.

"He's right," Celia agreed, her tone slightly imbued with annoyance.

"She used to be my best friend in middle and high school, but she moved away during our junior year. And any feelings she might have had for me... they're long gone," Dominic clarified.

Recalling a vivid Instagram post where Crystal declared her love for her basketball boyfriend in California during Senior year, Dominic felt afflicted. They used to keep up with each other, but as the senior year unfolded, their lives got busier and their friendship was reduced to liking each other's Instagram pictures.

Crystal reappeared with Mr. Goldman following behind, both wearing splendid expressions on their faces.

Mr. Goldman, at 85, was one of the most well-known figures in Greenville, his face etched with the wrinkles of passing years. Having been in the antique business for decades, He knew Dominic's parents since their childhood given that they used to work for him during the summers to earn extra cash. That was how they had met.

"Young Nic! It's been ages," the old man welcomed him, leaning on a cane in his right hand.

"Hello, Mr. Goldman," Dominic replied. "These are my friends, I mean this is my friend, Celia," He corrected, mindful that no one could see Key.

"How do you do?" Key responded anyway. "Seems like you've lost quite a bit of hair since I've last seen you."

Dominic chose to ignore him, his attention shifting as he realized Celia was no longer by his side. He spotted her a short distance away, engrossed in the store's front displays, obscured from view by the clutter of antiques.

"She must've wandered off in the store," Dominic told them.

"Well, no matter," Mr. Goldman smiled. "How can I help you?"

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