Rory looked out the dirty cab window. He glanced down at the crumpled paper that was sent to him about three weeks ago.
To: Rory Findle
From; Kelly Ringous
Hello. I am a friend of your mothers.
She told me to write you before you turned 18.
I am supposed to let you stay with me until
You have completed collage with the money your mother
has provided. I cannot tell you why I have not been able to
write you before now. With the money enclosed I hope you will
take a cab to this address
2236 Kiendle ST.
He looked out the window as the city of New York grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror of the cab. The rolling hill of the countryside started to form outside. They turned up a large, winding, old dirt road and at the end was a large farmhouse. As they neared he noticed a woman standing on the porch. She wore a pink shawl and her delicate gray hair was pinned up in a messy bun. The cabbie asked, “Is this you?”
“Yeah,” Rory mumbled.
“78 please,” said the cabbie. Rory dug the wad of money Kelly had sent him from his back pocket and counted out 80 dollars.
“Here,” he shoved the money at the cabbie, “keep the change,” he said as he got out of the car. He got his small backpack out of the back and waved the cab away. As he approached the house, he saw a rocking chair with a basket of warn next to it. The woman said, “Hello, I am Kelly Ringous. The woman who wrote you?”
“Hi,” he said, “I am Rory.”
“I guessed as much,” she said, “since you showed up. I rarely get visitors any more. Come in make your self at home. I have a relative coming tomorrow so don’t make to big of a mess.”
***
Rory woke to the sound of a cab coming up the winding drive. The relative he thought. He turned over and yawned lazily.
YOU ARE READING
Falling down
AdventureRory is just a random kid from an orphanage, or so he thinks. And Molly is just a broken girl from the remainders of Hurricane Katrina, or that's what she was told. When their two stories collide, will they keep the walls binding worlds together or...
