You hopped over a fence and ran through a field, getting cuts from the prickly plants. You continued to until they saw a familiar house. Climbing into a window, there stood Francis. He was doing homework as it was a normal Tuesday night.

“What’s up?” He asked, noticing how out of breath his friend was. As you began to explain how they were framed for murder, he looked stunned. The real killer was the judges son. But no one knew that. As it was blamed on you.