Frankie washed the dishes. Auto and the boys were out and about and she was at the house, doing some chores.
She and Auto had drifted, but Auto refused to give up on her. On them.
She appreciated it. She danced around the kitchen as she cleaned when there was a knock at the door.
Frankie frowned. Who could that be?
“Coming!”
Cautiously, she peeped through the peephole, seeing a familiar man. She couldn't place him though.
“Who is it?”
“Help,” The man croaked.
Frankie instinctively opened the door, finding a man clutching his side, blood gushing from between his fingers.
“Help me,”
She knew that accent.
“C-Come in, what happened to you?”
Blood spilled from his mouth as he grinned sardonically. “A case of mistaken identity.”
Frankie hurried to get some bandages, her kind whirlin
