Meeting Molly


Scott stood, leaning against the wall, looking out the window, a cup of coffee gripped firmly in both hands to lessen the tremor . He watched as the rivulets of rain carved a crooked path down the window panes, his reflection peeking through the glass as if waiting to get in. Another gloomy day, offering nothing more than a feeling of depression.  A feeling that he had come here to escape.

He had arrived almost a week ago and during much of that time, it had rained.  Not unusual for this time of year, but he had never paid that much attention to the weather.  Like now, his mind was usually preoccupied. Retreating to this cabin hadn’t changed that.

He strolled across the room and plopped into the recliner, aiming the remote at the TV, impatiently flipping through one channel after another, trying to find something, anything to amuse…

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About oldmainer

I am retired and live in southern Maine with my wife and two dogs. I started Oldmainer as an outlet for my occasional opinions and random observations, with some poetry thrown in. I welcome anyone that wants to kick back and join me here on the porch, exploring all the gifts we have been given and the memories collected. Thanks for stopping by.
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