FICTION: vanishing
the man with the patchwork heart:
frank vanished in the middle of the night. it wasn’t like it was unexpected. he had whispered it in his daughter’s ear, and her mother, his wife, had been waiting for him to leave, sometimes more impatiently then not, for years.
it was easier this way. he didn’t say goodbye, and no one would miss him and he would miss no one. he just slid through the front door for the last time; the door he had walked through every day for the last five years.
