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Molly’s on mother’s lap learning shoelaces. She ties, deftly now, her third bow to the armrest.

“How’s this mummy?”

“That’s great, now undo and go again, five a day remember.”

Mother’s anxious mind's elsewhere, at the altar, this very moment, seeing him marry that woman.
Weasel absconded the moment Molly arrived, played around some before settling on her (ex) best friend Lou.

Least he had the courtesy—the mother’s stomach knotted with the memory—to call and give notice of the wedding.

Bitter sweet the promise of alimony, yet galling were his words before hanging up.

“Lou Sends her love”, he said.

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