Molly was beginning to dislike mornings. The pub was fairly busy in the afternoon and evenings, but there just wasn’t that much left for Molly to do early the next day. At first, she had tried sleeping in. And it had worked for a day or two. But despite her late hours, she still couldn’t manage to break the habit of a lifetime by getting up past sunrise. It made her restless. She didn’t want the free time. She wanted to be useful.
So that morning – after washing, dressing, braiding her hair, making her bed, repacking her few belongings with a navy-like efficiency, and trying to stare down the floor for being already swept – she made her way over to the kitchen in hopes that there would be something for her to do. It was a well run pub, but it was still a pub; and that meant never ending chores, didn’t it? Molly cracked the door open carefully, not certain if there would be anyone in there yet. It was hardly early by her standards; she’d already been up for a while. So it was possible there would be others around as well.