I used to spend summers at my cousins’ place. One day during my vacation just before entering fifth grade, I struggled with removing their showerhead from the riser rail. It may have been due to my small height or that I was doing it incorrectly, but the little problem escalated when I broke it. Wanting to get away from the scene of the crime, I scurried to the bedroom and then pretended to sleep. Nobody knew what really happened, but the now-mismatched shower set still reminds me of a small secret I may have kept for too long.

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