by Lacey Munroe

Created on: April 05, 2009   Last Updated: April 06, 2009

In a little-populated coastal town in New England, a small ice cream parlor cleverly called "Scoops" sat on the corner of Derry and Winter Street. The parlor itself was quaintly designed, flavors and prices written in a loopy, careless script across three large blackboards that hung against the back wall behind the counter. Small, rounded wooden tables were off to the side of the small space, each having two chairs neatly pushed in underneath them. The walls were painted a cool, midnight blue and were covered with photographs and paintings of the local landscape, giving the store some originality and character.

Molly was a short-statured, average looking, brown-haired teenage girl who worked at the parlor, wearing a black apron and a comfortable pair of khakis with her hair tied back neatly in two braids. Every Sunday she would come in from nine o'clock am until three pm, opening the store and serving the ice cream by herself. Such a long shift did not bother Molly very much; she rather enjoyed her job as luck would have it. She was always a very curious and inquisitive girl, and brought that aspect of her personality to her job. She liked asking people questions- questions that they normally wouldn't be asked.

On a particularly balmy Sunday in July, Molly was working her shift as usual. A string of regulars filled random tables throughout the parlor; there was a teenage boy in the corner oblivious to the world as he blasted his iPod, toying with his phone, a father with two young girls giggling and talking quietly towards the door, and another particularly loud, affectionate couple who always came and disturbed the quiet peace for a portion of the morning. Molly never asked her questions to these people, as she saw them every Sunday and none seemed all that interested in talking with her.

No, Molly reserved her questions for the people she hadn't met before. As she heard the tinkling of the bell on the door, her blue eyes instantly darted towards the entrance, brightening with interest. A middle aged man cautiously crossed the threshold, scanning the room. Molly grinned warmly in his direction as he approached the counter. "Hello," she said, "May I get you anything?"

As the man contemplated his order, Molly discreetly observed him, carefully noticing the wedding band on his left ring finger. That sight always made her glad. I hope they're happy, she thought optimistically.

"I'll just have a small vanilla in a cup please," the man said gruffly, pressing a five

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