Ryan tried to watch the house from the periphery of his vision, while trying to hold back the tears welling him up and commanding him to think of everything around him as a delusion. Once inside the house, he dropped his belongings on the table. He put out the divorce papers from the envelope and slammed them down on the table as he stared at the papers. It wasn’t what he wanted. Jenny. His wife.
On the dresser were photos of family and the picture of a young girl that he didn’t recognize. Squinting at the tarnished pendant, he rubbed it vigorously. Who was Molly? He couldn’t recall his aunt or anyone else in the family mentioning her. Maybe, Molly was the girl in the picture. She had an uncanny resemblance to Jenny. Tears welled up in his eyes.
Intrigued by the mystique regarding the picture, he was amused, thinking that the girl was Molly and that it was she that had caused his fearful and sleepless nights twenty years ago. He’d told Jenny about his experiences and how he once heard a voice call his name. It was barely more than a whisper.
Was his aunt right? Had he been dreaming—or was it something else?
Going straight to the duffle, he retrieved a 9mm pistol, released and examined the clip, and reinserted it. Taking several deep breaths, he welcomed a sudden feeling of serenity while savouring the smell and gentle patter of the summer rain. He managed a wistful smile when his eyes settled on the place where the old tree once stood. The gun hung at his side as he slowly tapped the frame with his finger. He sighed heavily and then turned and stared, expressionless, at the girl in the picture as he teleported to infinity.
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