Eagles
I smile in spirit because whenever I’m here, I’m always reminded of the good old days when I was an unsuspecting, carefree kid.
“Hey, Alex!” Immediately, when I open the glass door, I’m greeted by a warm, feminine voice.
A short, plump person sitting behind a wooden desk smiling wide at me.
“Hey, Molly!” I reply.
Molly is a very nice, quiet woman in her per-forties who lives in her own world, understood only by herself. Large glasses with thick frames hide her amber, beautiful eyes. Her curly red hair, which she describes as chestnut, is tied in a ponytail.
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