12...

The buzzing sound that emanates from Frank’s sleeping head vibrates the air and sets up waves forcing life where we cannot see it. The sound is absorbed by more brazen sounds of traffic and shouting and sirens, and yet it lives just beneath them and floats on. That buzzing is swallowed by the walls, and yet like a virus takes hold within and barely turns those walls to it’s simple vibration.
The sound breezes through the living room and just past Bryan, practically asleep himself. As Bryan expels heavy and dank smoke pulled from a pipe through the barely open window, the buzz makes a break to mix and mingle with the noises outside.
High above the Victorian house in the Upper Haight, the sound of Frank’s head, now thin and practically expended, floats. About to give up the ghost, that ephemeral buzz picks up on another, deeper more insectile buzz. This sound rides currents not seen nor heard, sometimes only felt. This noise frightens a sleeping dog into a bout of barking and then immediately shuts him up.
This sound has ridden hidden waves through the city, past dark houses where sleepers moan, past narrow streets where the awake shiver suddenly. This sound began it’s searching, probing life from somewhere in the downtown bus terminal where it shuffled past the seemingly unflappable denizens and left them unknowingly shaking for lack of humanity.
If Frank could see the person strolling out from the heart of the bus station, he wouldn’t understand. If he were told who this person was, he wouldn’t believe it. You see, as far as Frank knows at this point, this person was somebody that he and Alexis had made up as a bit, as a joke.
It should be impossible for Uncle Eddie to be walking the streets of the city.