By the time we flip the “Closed” sign on the door, the sun has dipped behind the trees and buildings. Dragging my feet from a busy day, my sight is set for home. I step outside, and I’m smacked with a frosty bitter bite. I tighten my thin sweater over my chest and crane my neck back, studying the ominous clouds. An ice storm is approaching fast.
When my car comes into sight, I spot an unexpected friend leaning against the hood, pursing his lips and arms crossed over his chest. Yep, he’s pissed. I meander to my car and flinch upon hearing Franny’s heated words.
“Well, I was wonderin’ if you ran back to Texas.” His voice is sour as a lemon. “b***h, why have you not called me?” Franny’s hands fly to his hips.
Today, he’s dressed more like a man, no make-up, wearing a thick black hoodie.
“
