The next day dawned sunny, and Frank smiled. His headache had gone, and he
hoped that it would steer clear of him all day. He wondered if it had to do
with Columbia's comfort and understanding. He reasoned that perhaps the
fact that he hadn't shared his feelings with anyone about it all was what
had caused the tension.
He yawned and stretched, glancing his alarm clock. "Nine-fifteen.. Good." He swung his legs from the edge of the bed and slipped on a robe from his bedside table. He hummed happily as he walked drowsily into his bathroom. The tiles were cold to his feet, but the shower water would be hot, and he didn't mind. He waited for the water to warm and glimpsed the mirror. His hair was a proverbial crow's nest, but it didn't look too bad. Into the shower he went, and he sighed with the comforting warmth. He lathered with shampoo and conditioner, rinsed quickly, and hopped back out. He shook his head rapidly; water flying in every direction, and then toweled it, anyway. He snatched a brush from the sink counter and brushed his hair neatly.
He couldn't help stopping to stare in the mirror. He unconsciously thought: Are you still in there.. Frank? He glared hard at his reflection, and there was a brief glimmer of mischief. Maybe.. I wouldn't take the chance of provoking the possibility..
He shook his head, mumbling, "Foolishness.. I'm such an idiot."
Black t-shirt, black pants, a black neckband, and black socks. "That's about right." Feral walked away from the mirror before her bed and threw herself on the quilt, leaning her head back to see her wall clock. It read ten forty-five.
"Feral!"
She groaned, "I know Mom, I'll go in a minute!"
"You'll be late if you don't leave now!"
"FINE!" She grabbed her shoes, shoved them over her socks, and rambled down the stairs. She slammed the door behind her as she hurried outside, jumping into her white Dodge Spirit. Without another thought, she shot from the driveway.
She allowed herself a smile, "God, she really is a bitch."
He yawned and stretched, glancing his alarm clock. "Nine-fifteen.. Good." He swung his legs from the edge of the bed and slipped on a robe from his bedside table. He hummed happily as he walked drowsily into his bathroom. The tiles were cold to his feet, but the shower water would be hot, and he didn't mind. He waited for the water to warm and glimpsed the mirror. His hair was a proverbial crow's nest, but it didn't look too bad. Into the shower he went, and he sighed with the comforting warmth. He lathered with shampoo and conditioner, rinsed quickly, and hopped back out. He shook his head rapidly; water flying in every direction, and then toweled it, anyway. He snatched a brush from the sink counter and brushed his hair neatly.
He couldn't help stopping to stare in the mirror. He unconsciously thought: Are you still in there.. Frank? He glared hard at his reflection, and there was a brief glimmer of mischief. Maybe.. I wouldn't take the chance of provoking the possibility..
He shook his head, mumbling, "Foolishness.. I'm such an idiot."
Black t-shirt, black pants, a black neckband, and black socks. "That's about right." Feral walked away from the mirror before her bed and threw herself on the quilt, leaning her head back to see her wall clock. It read ten forty-five.
"Feral!"
She groaned, "I know Mom, I'll go in a minute!"
"You'll be late if you don't leave now!"
"FINE!" She grabbed her shoes, shoved them over her socks, and rambled down the stairs. She slammed the door behind her as she hurried outside, jumping into her white Dodge Spirit. Without another thought, she shot from the driveway.
She allowed herself a smile, "God, she really is a bitch."