21
I had this sudden urge to drive by Frenchys house, an impulse that felt so right as if my subconscious was tugging at my sleeve, directing me there. After dropping Hanna off, I took the same route as before to Frenchy’s house, driving through a poor side of town. In the darkness, lit primarily by the overhead streetlights, the deterioration wasn’t as noticeable. Crumbling buildings, cracked sidewalks and potholed roads required closer inspection. The graffiti only appeared in the headlight beams. Metal Caterpillars rested in the areas cleared for new construction, waiting for a signal to begin the region’s metamorphosis. I had to slow for a group of teens shouting and kicking a soccer ball down the road.
My thoughts drifted to Hanna and her new found jealousy. It was a Hanna I hadn’t
