"You must be proud of your family then." Corbin inquired.
Sylvia chuckled sadly, shaking her head. "I wish I could."
"What do you mean?"
"I was always the only one different among them. An outcast."
Corbin instantly tensed, and that change in his expression didn't go unnoticed by Sylvia. Why did he react to that one word particularly?
Not pointing it out right away, she continued, "I knew I am unique. I am not like them. There is something that differentiates me from them.
They didn't like me playing with them. They didn't want to converse with me. They didn't want to share their funny secrets with me."
Corbin could feel the pain Sylvia had been through in her childhood. He wanted to console her, tell her that it had passed. Yet he found himself tangling in the web of his own childhood memories, which were exact replicas of hers.
