frank doesnât sleep much, but sheâs only guessing. sheâs not awake much either, between the pain medication and the pain itself, being shot in the chest was not the vacation she had been looking for. and frank wouldnât tell her about the babies, just kept telling her, in that gruff voice, iâll explain soon. rest.Â
but rest in this rough little hospital room in what felt like a warehouse, rest was getting old. she pushed dark hair out of her face, and eased herself to the edge of the bed, to let her legs dangle. the thin hospital gown had been traded for one of frankâs black t-shirts, swimming on her petite frame.
she finds her footing, ground cool under bare feet, and wanders the edge of the bed, keeping it close in case she fell. strength, such as it is, returns to her, and she wants to get out of this small space. she can hear keyboard keys clacking, soft music, and she wanders to it, finding a man sitting at a desk with lots of screens. itâs not frank, she doesnât know who he is, or where her husband is. her footsteps are nearly silent, something she doesnât think about.
her voice is soft, throat hurts.
â uh.. hi. do you.. do you know where frank is? â