When I woke up this morning, it was with Frankie’s arm wrapped tightly around me. Though my heart swelled with happiness, secure in his arms, it wasn’t the only thing swollen. I needed out of his vise-like grip to go to the bathroom. I tried to move his arm, but instead of releasing me, he tightened his hold. I tried giving him a gentle kiss, thinking I might wake him just enough so I could make my escape, but nothing. I brushed a piece of my hair across his face so he might swat at the ticklish sensation; no go. I said his name softly, and he nestled closer. One thing was becoming painfully clear: Frankie wasn’t going to wake for just anything; this wasn’t good. I really had to go. “FRANKIE!” I screamed, and the moment his arm moved slightly, I rolled and ran toward the bathroom door.
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