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-Ｉ ＴＨＯＵＧＨＴ ＩＴ ＷＡＳ ＰＲＥＴＴＹ ＯＢＶＩＯＵＳ-
-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-
THE DIM GLOW OF A TABLE LAMP filtered up the stairs, indicating to Frankie that she wasn't the only Gallagher awake at this ungodly hour of the night. She gently patted down the stairs to investigate, shivers travelling up through her body from the cool wooden floor underfoot. An autumn chill hung in the air, lightly nipping at her exposed arms and legs. The fact that Frankie refused to swap into her winter nightwear didn't help. She had hoped to ride out her summer clothes for as long as possible, but the harsh Chicago weather refused to follow her plans. As she rounded the landing of the stairs, Frankie's brown eyes landed on Ian's mess of red hair.
"What you doing up so late?" Frankie asked her young brother, taking a seat beside him on the worn-out green couch. Ian didn't react to his sister approaching him, accustomed to the lack of privacy in the house. A roll of toilet paper sat in his lap, the edge torn in an uneven pattern. On the floor around their intoxicated father laid a cluster of clumped up balls, some even landing in his mouth as his monotonous snores filled the room.
"Couldn't sleep," said Ian, throwing another small tissue ball towards Frank's open mouth, only missing it by a centimetre or two. "What about you?"
A yawn escaped Frankie's mouth. "Just needed to pee. Saw the light." Frankie's bladder had been wreaking havoc with her all day. She had to be excused from six out of her eight class periods to alleviate herself. Lady problems, she told her teachers. The ironic truth is that it was the complete opposite.
