TITLE: Knolls Hollow
Frank Delaney follows his usual morning path, his long gray trench coat trailing behind him, almost catching in the spokes of his old black bike.
“Mornin’ Mr Delaney.” Tom Farlene says with a mischievous smile and a brief nod of his head.
“Hmm…” Frank responds begrudgingly as he whizzes by, the early morning sunlight bouncing off the gleam on the top of his balding head.
Tom smiles and gives a gentle nudge to the young man standing next to him on the bridge, expecting no more of a response from the cantankerous old fool.
“Do you have nothin’ better to do Tom Farlene?” Ellen Richmond yells from the stunted doorway of her childhood home, furiously wiping her jelly stained hands in her graying housecoat.
Tom chuckles to himself before returning to watching the pebble that he just kicked across the narrow street with a fierce intensity.
Frank dismounts the bike, rubbing his hand along the old saddle, refraining from spit shining before leaning it carefully against the tired walls of the local grocery store. He studies the empty village road, his blue eyes hidden beneath the mask of unruly gray eyebrows. He eyes Tom Farlene skeptically, ignoring Ellen Richmond’s friendly waves before burying his hands deep inside his pockets and stepping inside the dank, musty corner shop.
“Frank!” John Kelly greets him from behind the deep counter, his wide smile failing to hide the pitying look he gives the old man.