<div class="floatleft">(http://i48.tinypic.com/awbx3q.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Tabitha "Frankie" Franks<br/><strong>Location</strong>: McDonald's, slightly out of the Row<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Anyone<br/><strong>Date</strong>: July 28, 2012<br/><strong>Time</strong>: 8:00 (ish) AM<br/><hr/><br/>Frankie sat on the benches outside McDonald's, nursing her lukewarm coffee. It had been a shit morning, a shit night, and a shit day to come she could already tell. So the splurge on coffee didn't make her feel terrible this morning. She needed the pick-me-up, even if it meant that breakfast was going to be in liquid form this morning. Her stomach grumbled in response to that thought and with an almost impish, child-like attitude she growled back at it. "Oh shut up, you."<br/><br/>The day her stomach answered her back she was going to seek professional help. Hell, if any of the inanimate objects she was so found of rambling off to decide to talk back to her, she might just enjoy it. Sure, she'd be bat-shit crazy, but at least she wouldn't feel so fucking alone.<em>I need a smoke.</em>The impulse to spend her last few bucks on a pack of cigarettes was excruciating, but she practically forced herself to stay seated. The Wawa across the street was looking more and more tempting by the moment and in response she twisted her feet around the bar of the bench, almost losing her balance, but effectively making her mind focus more on trapping herself there.<br/><br/><em>No cigarettes. Think...where's the spot today?</em>Not like she'd found one yesterday and her first choice this morning had been worthless. She was running over everything that had gone wrong at the gas station earlier that morning when a compact, silver convertible squealed to a stop, a good few car lengths past the drive-thru window. The top was down and the blond woman, in her tennis outfit, sunglasses, and ponytail, practically leaped out of the car, slamming the door behind her and holding that well known white bag in her hand. She had crumbled the top of it in her fist, the 'M' twisting into an odd shape that looked like jagged teeth. Within a few seconds, her perfect little behind had stormed into the restaurant, leaving the engine running and the top down.<br/><br/>Instinct and adrenaline were Frankie's best friends. The emotions that filled her pushed her beyond reason, beyond good sense, and straight into opportunity. She was tiny, normal, and completely forgettable most days. So with careless ease she stood, walked across the sidewalk and leaned into the car. There on the floor of the passenger side was the purse, a small Gucci thing. It was in her hand and then in the large pocket inside her father's hunting jacket in moments. Her pace barely broke and raising the coffee to her lips, she sipped at it unhurriedly as she headed for the Wawa.<br/><br/>She had just passed the gas pumps when the little convertible sped by, some country song blaring from the radio..."How dare you? I miss you..." Frankie smirked as she shoved the door open and made her way to the bathroom off to the side of the store.<em>Bet you will miss it, lady.</em>She snapped the door shut on the first stall, squatting down onto the seat and pulling the purse from her pocket. She flipped the lid open on the bin for women's sanitary leftovers and sorted out the mirage of items in the tiny bag. Wallet - cash, gift cards for Barnes and Nobles, gas card, Giant discount card, all keepers and all went back into the jacket pocket. The credit cards, the license, and the photos of two pale-skinned, toe-headed boys went into the receptacle, wrapped up in toilet paper. Pair of earrings, white envelope from the bank with $80 bucks still in it, two pens, a pack of Juicy Fruit, and<em>Thank you God!</em>a pack of Marlboro cigarettes - all went into her jacket. "I love you, lady." The empty purse and wallet were put into her pocket as well, they'd make a good trade later.<br/><br/>At the counter, Frankie bought a Monster Energy drink and a blueberry muffin. She stepped back out into the sunlight, lit up a cigarette and smiled the whole way home, singing out her own little country tune, in gratitude to the nice lady with the menthol smokes..."It's a great day to be alive...I know the sun's still shinin' when I close my eyes...there's hard times in the neighborhood, but why can't every day be just this good?"