33...

“Don’t worry about it,” Bryan looked a little uncomfortable, a little ashamed. “I don’t take you seriously.”
Frank let out a short, dry laugh. He finished putting on his shoes and stood up.
“Thanks man.”
“If you’re tired, why don’t you crash out for awhile? I mean you’re not going to work today are you?” Bryan was taking on his tender, motherly tones.
Frank, who hated Bryan’s tender, motherly tones, curled his fingers into his palms and squeezed. He did not want to jump all over Bryan again, none of this was Bryan’s issue, so he squeezed until he felt pain, until he could calmly respond.
“I feel like I need to get for a little bit, try to clear my head,” Frank nearly whispered. “I’ll probably just go down to the park and wander for a little bit.”
“Do you want me to come down with you?” Bryan asked.
Frank felt a fingernail puncture the skin in his palm.
“No,” he sighed, and then softly, “I just want to be alone for a bit. Thank you though.”
Frank began walking towards the front door of the apartment. He could feel Bryan following languidly behind him. He could also feel the last of his patience rushing out in an impossible torrent through a tiny pin prick hole in his forehead. Frank began to hold his breath in hopes of passing out before he punched Bryan right in the face. He reached the door and spun around slowly, letting his breath out in a low gust. Bryan looked at him with worried eyes. He nodded firmly and turned towards the television set. Frank felt a small pang of guilt sucker punch him in the stomach.
“Are you heading into the coffee shop today?”
Bryan was stretching out on the couch with still only a towel around his waist. He was beginning to fiddle with the televisions remote.
“Yeah, later this afternoon,” Bryan flipped through a few channels and then focused on Frank again. “We can talk for a bit, later, if you want.”
“Thanks man. Look, I’m sorry…”
Bryan waved him off with remote in hand and Frank opened the door to leave. He walked slowly down the stairs, suddenly feeling dizzy at being outside the apartment. His brain was fighting itself; arguing over things to tell Bryan and over things not tell him, arguing over what to do next with the Alexis debacle and what not to do, arguing over whether or not that stupid, fucking cheesy porn story was actually something he had heard before.
“Seriously,” Frank whispered to himself. “Janitor with the pet parrot and all.”
He was certain that he did not know a Chuck Peevesly, and was fairly sure he remembered who had told him a story so remarkably similar… But his memories were mixing with stories and becoming hybrids that no longer belonged to him. And if his own history no longer belonged to him, was in fact changing in his mind with every stair he took down through this decrepit Victorian house, who was he now with his very foundation of being unrecognizable?
“C’mon,” he harshly whispered to himself as he threw the front door open and stepped into bright, morning sunlight.