I paced from one end of the bazooka couch to the other in Frankie's living room. I stopped when his car turned into his driveway. Somewhere in the hours he'd been gone, my anger dwindled into acceptance. I didn't like what he'd done, but I understand it.
Kind of.
A little.
Life was harsh and reality was even worse.
But just accepting it didn't mean I had to like it.
I was also pretty sure that the conflicting ideals and the way Frankie turned my entire life upside down might cause me to lose my mind at a point in the near future.
I tried to walk with tiny steps to his kitchen where the back door and his garage were located, but I still beat him inside and had to wait for him when he made it into his home.
He came in looking as if nothing was amiss, carrying a brown paper sack with b
