I Drew You Once in Art Class

Fifty-Two

It was thundering.

Like, really hard. When Frank left, the dishes had been rattling downstairs from the loud grumbles and cracks outside.

So naturally, Frank took a walk. What can he say? Maybe he had a death wish.

He brought with him no umbrella, no raincoat, and no protection. Just a hoodie with the hood over his head. He figured he had some time before it started raining, and he'd get back before it started coming down. He kicked a pebble as he walked in the middle of the street, staring at the asphalt. It was when he kicked it into a crack in the road that he saw the first drop land, followed by many more, a gentle pattering sound surrounding him, increasing in volume and rapidity by the second. He allowed himself to be soaked, knowing he wasn't gonna get home in time not to be rained on anyway. There was a new sort of rebellion and adrenaline rushing through his body and somehow standing in the freezing rain like an idiot seemed to fuel and satisfy it at the same time.

This is something Gerard would do, he thought to himself.

A slapping of sneakers on wet asphalt caught his attention. He squinted his eyes through the misty rain to see who it was.

Speak of the devil.