Pinwheel

Frankie winds the window down a little more just as Gerard shifts gears, moves through the green light, and hits I-80, cars surrounding him, newer, bluer, happier. Frankie’s lips curl into a grin, and he unbuckles his seatbelt. Gerard gets a little nervous, but keeps his speed normal, instead of coming to a complete stop, like he really wants to.

Frankie crawl up to the door and then slowly eases his body out the window, until his head, arms, and half of his torso are hanging out the window, feeling the wind hug him tight, carry him down I-80 with carefree ease. He giggles, waves his arms around and hums just a little, looking at Gerard through half-lidded eyes, shouting, “It’s fun, Ger, I swear.”

Gerard shakes his head; Dear God, pleasedon’thurthim.

Gerard knows he got Frankie this way; he just doesn't know how to stop him.