Loving Frank

by Nancy Horan

“Have you forgotten why you came here in the first place?” She pushed the hard nail of her thumb into the flesh of a finger. “Not for a minute.” “Then why are you even talking about this?”

flung a hairbrush down on the dresser, causing Mamah to jump reflexively at the sharp crack. She turned to look at his face and found it splotchy with anger. Frank seemed a stranger—he’d never been so agitated with her. She took in a breath, lifted her chin. “This chance means so much, Frank. And right now I need work.” “Nonsense.” Frank’s voice dripped sarcasm. “You don’t need to work.” “Oh, I see,” she responded bitterly.