The next few hours move quickly mostly because…well, because I don’t let myself think about much. Instead, I get busy.
“Iris,” Frankie moans as I push past him into his room, starting to scoop clothing off of the floor and throwing it into a hamper. “Please, Iris – you can’t just channel all of your emotions into chores –“
“Yes I can, Frank!” I call over my shoulder, opening his closet and gasping when I see the pile of dirty gym clothes there.
“Iris!” he groans, dashing over to me and trying to pull me away, “those are my underwear.”
“Frankie, this is gross, you need to clean this stuff –“
“Which is what we hire people to do!”
“Oh please,” I mutter, shoving the clothes haphazardly into the basket and throwing him a dirty look over my shoulder. “You’re a grown man, Frankie, you shoul
