He squeezes his eyes shut and his reply is so low, it’s barely audible. “I see the devastation on your face as you walked in on us. Like I just ripped your world to shreds.”
His description is eerily accurate, but I don’t say it out loud; it would defeat the purpose of this exercise. “Do you know what I see?” I ask instead.
Frankie shakes his head.
“I see a bedroom. Not the scene of a crime. Just a room, nothing else.”
“How?”