𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄 | ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴʟᴏɴ

𝐎𝐍𝐄

    "FRANCIS..."

     "What are we supposed to do now, Ethel?" Francis cradled his head in his hands.

     With their dad in jail, and their mother dead, they were lost and helpless. Francis and Ethel Sullivan were just kids that didn't know where to go next.

     "I don't know," Ethel said, but this seemed to make Francis feel even worse. "Maybe we can go to the station and get some lodging... at least until we get back on our feet."

     "Maybe you're right," he said, looking at his sister, then back towards his pacing feet. "When does the lodging open?"

     "I don't know, Francis" she said, looking out the window. "It's best we go check."

     Ethel got up from her seat and wiped a tear from her eye. Opening the door, they were greeted with a small burst of light from outside. The city was quieter this time of day, and the dusky skies and rain seemed to perfectly match their spirits.

     "The closest station should be just a few blocks that way." Francis gestured down the sidewalk.

     "The station is only temporary, you know," Ethel said. "What are we supposed to do afterwards?"

     "I don't know, Ethel," Francis said. "We're going to have to look into that later, alright?"

     "No," she told him, "we need to figure this out now."

     Francis looked over to the corner where kids were huddled together. He put his hand on his chin, something he did when he was thinking.

     "There's plenty of jobs we could have," he said. "None of them safe, keep in mind."

     Ethel shrugged her shoulders. "A jobs a job."

     She looked forward and ran off to get to the station early. She didn't know what to call it—what was happening to them, but she hated it. It felt horrible and fragile and lonely. Francis put what little money they had in his pocket and ran after her.

     When they came to the station and they said they needed a place to stay, the officers pretended to pout. "We have a one day limit," the one man said.

     So Francis and Ethel Sullivan nodded to the police and crossed over small lodging, Ethel trying her best to memorize the placement of her feet as they went.

     When they got to the separation doors, Ethel said, "I'll have something figured out by tomorrow, Francis. I promise."

     "I've got it handled, Ethel. I'll have something together, alright? You just focus on getting sleep."

     "And what is that, Francis?"

     He said coyly, "Something."

     "Something?"

     "I'm your brother. Let me handle it," he said.

     Ethel changed tactics. "Then why don't we just figure it out together? Right now."

     "No, it's late. Just get some rest and I'll figure it out."

     "Francis, you shouldn't have to do this alone. I'm not much younger than you, and let's face it, you're not that much smarter than me."

     Ethel thought he might smile at the smarter than me thing, but instead he turned serious. "Go to sleep Ethel. I'll see you in the morning."

     "Why are you shutting me out?"

     Francis sighed. "I want to do this by myself. I need to. It's my job."

     "This isn't fair, Francis."