The Apostles

Molly looked toward her grandfather. Over the past few years, the gaze she gave this old man could only be described as cold, but in these moments, an air of complexity took over as she looked on toward her grandfather's figure. He never seemed so… vulnerable before.

Bits of wood and metal dropped to the ground, but errant pieces of paper filled with illegible chicken scratch fell almost too slowly, swaying under the still turbulent air.

"Asso – Grandpa…" Molly bit her lip. "What was she talking about?"

A sadness pervaded the Association Head's sunken eyes. But, when he heard his granddaughter call him grandpa for the first time in years, there was a bit of hope that lit his eyes.

"Never mind those matters Little Molly." The Association Head waved his hand.

"But…"