The wind rushed through Mr. Bishop's lack of hair as he drove through the suburban streets. The leather seats caressed his body, leaving him in a nicely formed indent. As he piloted the vehicle each subtle movement cause the leather to creak and groan. Frank likened the leather to his heart, but he didn't fully understand why.
The physics teacher pulled into the driveway as the beautifully crafted leather interior gave a final 'crrrkgfgh'. Frank mimed his goodbyes as the man pulled away from the house once again, off to pack his clothing as a result of the upcoming divorce.
Although first impressions are often deceiving, the prospective parents seemed nice enough. However, the tone of the woman seemed quite familiar. Frank had the distinct feeling that he had heard that voice somewhere before, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it...
He entered the house alongside the two adults, maintaining his cautiousness as he passed beneath the hideous olive painted doorframe.
