The note Molly Simmons left on the doorstep had undergone many revisions before she finally settled on “Bill, I love you,” and stuffed it into an empty pint bottle.
Now she lay under blankets and sheets folded and tucked, waiting for sound of the milkman’s footsteps on the path.
Bill often lingered to chat with her, and she was sure he felt something too. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could almost see him in his battery-powered milk float, trundling past the newsagent and down the hill.
What wouldn’t she give to be lifted from her bed right now and thrown in among the yoghurts and the full-fat and driven away to paradise at 5 miles per hour.
The garden gate creaked. At once, Molly realised how stupid she had been to think that this might work. Bill could never love her. Too plain. Too… well, too Molly. She leaped out of bed and ran. Maybe there was time.
But when the door swung open, there was Bill, gold top in one hand and her note in the other.
Molly trembled and tugged at her nightie. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning, Molly,” said Bill, and he smiled.
If you liked this story, please click the ‘like’ button, or share using the button below, so that others can find it too :)
Tom Cornfoot is a writer, designer, and illustrator. He’s spent over 30 years carefully developing a style of handwriting that’s almost illegible, doodling, and never getting around to learning to play the guitar.
These stories are plucked from the air, like everything else. There’s no consistent link or thread, unless of course you find one, in which case, it was entirely planned that way.
Words and pictures © 2025 Tom Cornfoot
This sweet story hits me in just the right place. I love it that she answered the door in her nightgown. If that doesn't wake him up , nothing will.