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Dear Mitch,

If you're holding this letter you already know. The house has been boarded up. The doors... The windows... Everything... We're at the Comfort Inn. Room 112.

I love you.

Frank

P.S.  I caught a raging case of PMS and wanted to punch random people in the face.  As such, I have retired to my prayer closet, which is filled with soothing images (i.e. Keanu Reeves saying "whoa", kittens playing with puppies and midgets dressed as sunflowers).  I promise to post something tomorrow.  <3 Valerie