It was already late in the evening, the streets of New York full with people going home. You unlocked the door to your apartment and turned on the light, walking in and setting down your things on the kitchen counter.

A cold breeze came, and you noticed the living room window open and the curtains flowing in the small wind. Then you saw a dark figure sitting on your couch, clutching his wounded side.

“Finally. Took you long enough.” Frank mumbled in his gruff voice. The pain was noticeable in the strain of his voice.