Molly pulled herself back together. Internally, she made excuses for her display of emotions – it was late, she was hungry, she was frustrated that they hadn’t found Thomas and Bridget, she was worried. Any of these were better than admitting to herself that she was that lonely.
“Alright.” Molly looked around. Why did everything have to look so different in the dark? “It’s not far from here, is it?” The area looked familiar, but then all the streets she’d been through in the past months had a tendency to blur together. Molly knew that her fathers would never have let her leave if they had had any idea how little she’d pay attention to her surroundings. “I swear, I really am usually better than this. I’m not that forgetful. Things have just been busy. It’s easy to spend days at the pub without going farther than the front door.” She was frustrated at herself, but she saw the humor in the situation too. On her own, she would have gotten lost looking for the lost. It was a bitter irony, but irony nonetheless.