Ginger’s offer pulled Molly out of her melancholy. What possible good was it standing here wishing for things that couldn’t be – especially since she couldn’t even figure out what they were? On top of that, she was being unforgivably rude.
Giving actual consideration to Ginger’s question, Molly’s eyes lit with mischief. She doubted this was at all proper, but she was tired to death of being ‘good.’ “I don’t know. I just want to do something. Sometimes I just get the urge to – I don’t know –run miles or swim rivers or roll down hills.” The fervor in her voice increased with each suggestion until she caught herself. “Sounds silly, doesn’t it?”