“I was hit by a bullet, Frank! Not hit by a car.”
Frank moves up behind him, stares at the image frozen on the screen too, in the exact center (again) of one of his many Youtube poop videos he’d been watching since the return. It could be that he can’t send him back down to the land of the living after all, he thinks. Mouse just keeps reappearing here; time loop. Center: something about center.
And the whole man-woman polarity he’s running away from so hard in his mind. He must embrace!




