Clayton
I sat in Frankie’s room for a few minutes, waiting for the tent in my pants to go away. I looked around the room at the family pictures. Frankie seemed very happy in all of them, with who I assumed to be her father and brother. Her father looked like the strict and stern kind like my father was. I stand up and fix my clothes before walking out of the room.
I enter the living room, and Frankie’s mother sits on the couch watching Frasier. I stand and stare at the TV for a few minutes.
“You can come and sit on the couch,” Carol turns to me with a smirk. She holds up a wine glass. “I have wine.”
I make my way to the couch, and Carol scoots down so I can sit. “I like Frasier,” I mumble.
“It’s a good old show,” Carol says to me. “Would you like some wine, Clayton? Or we have beer.
