On a rainy afternoon, a street full of fruit sellers was brimming with activity. Molly was checking out a few apples when she accidentally dropped one down. The vendor starts yelling at her, â€œWhat is wrong with you old hag? What have you been looking at for so long? Planning on dropping some more?â€ Molly, miffed by the vendorâ€™s tone, puts the apples back in the basket and moves away. As she walks past the street she gives nasty looks to the other vendors. Now, this wasnâ€™t usual for people who knew Molly. She was a kind and a gentle yet righteous lady in her late forties.
As she reached the end of the street she unlocked her car. Sitting with the windows down, she gets her pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her jacket. Fuming with what happened at the apple vendorâ€™s she lit the soggy stick and took a deep puff. She held her head high but she was being beaten on the inside. A woman who despised the so-called â€˜fashionable smokersâ€™ who took pride sucking on those cancer sticks. But now, times had changed.
It has been 3 years now that Molly smokes an average of three packs a day. The memory was still fresh and clear when she heard a gunshot and an angry, pale-faced boy holding the gun at his father. Martin was the son of Reed and Molly Mason. The shy, pale boy was influenced by the punk culture, eventually imbibing the ill of it too.
The burning cigarette had been letting out smoke, stuck between the hold of a lady who was strong on her will. Molly drifted back from her thoughts as she felt the burning bud, and stubbed it out immediately. She hit the ignition and pushed the gas pedal. The journey was going to be a long one, never-ending maybe.
A petty fight over his sonâ€™s behavior had taken a serious end when the frail boy put two into his fatherâ€™s chest. A wife and the mother of this boy, stood there petrified. It was Molly who chose to love her son so much that it led to this. A spoilt brat was bred by no one but her. She took the blame on herself and got convicted. Being deemed a bad mother, she was denied rights to meet her son. Though she knew he would always be on a lookout for her.
The speed breaker brought Molly back to reality as she bumped her head on the steering wheel. A woman who had been let out on parole on 23rd of December 1978, now lay silent, with blood splattered windows and The Beatles singing â€˜Hey Judeâ€™ on the stereo.