“Don’t worry, I will have your bike fixed by Friday,” said Jeb when he saw her tears.
Molly never meant to get old; she thought she could fight it. She accepted the butt spread, covered the gray, ignored the crow’s feet, but it was the insidious things like stiffening in her knees, the tighter turn of her neck that was becoming the bane of her life. Age had crept in on her like tide water on sand, easing away tiny grains of joy daily. Bike riding was her last freedom, that’s why it meant so much, and she did not want to give it up.