By the boisterous, sweet Julie Joyful, you received a request to meet Frank, Frank Frankly, if you recall. You walked through the gravel pathway, heading into their house’s direction. It was small, a bit plain looking, but extravagant in its own ways. There were marigolds outside, and some sunflowers in the back. Butterflies fluttered around the plants that scattered around the front of the house, even some at the posterior. You hop up onto the porch, standing on the welcome mat and knocking.