Michael Malone - Weebly

interesting to talk to, he was certainly not much of a
businessman, and that the key to his store was not going
to unlock the gate to golden opportunity.
Luke was in a hurry.
Behind the post office counter, Judith Haig helped
Alf Marco pack into his cracked, worn leather bag her
careful arrangement of Dingley Falls's communications.
The two worked, as usual, without conversation. Alf,
the second of Mama Marco's sons, was a slow, thickset
man in his late fifties. He was a reticent, resigned
man caught between his grocer brother Carl's energetic
drive and his gardener brother Sebastian's moody
artistry. Alf had grown up in the middle of his family,
and worked now in the middle of Dingley Falls largely
unnoticed by anyone. As a result, he had no sense of
how it would feel to be singled out for special attention.
He felt no lack of, or need for, unique gifts or unique
recognition. He carried the mail for Dingley Falls. That
was all. Soon, when Mrs. Haig retired, he would be
postmaster of Dingley Falls. He would have refused had
he not thought his doing so would have caused trouble.
"Nice day," he suddenly said.