[ WP ] A story where the protagonist is a pretty decent individual by most accounts , but is DESPISED by the narrator .

Frank's left eye was not evenly set with his right; it had a downward tilt. This is the first thing that most people noticed about Frank when they saw him for the first time, if they noticed him at all. He was n't very assuming and was just as likely not to be noticed in the first place. 
 
 He was n't a mouth-breather, but his breathing was always, infuriatingly, audible, and his mouth made smacking, clicking sounds when he shuffled uncomfortably in the chair. 
 
 Frank had an anger problem. He was aware of this, and so he did Sudoku, poorly, and crosswords, also poorly. Sometimes he just gave up and went to the word word jumble because he could almost always solve those. 
 
 He scratched his neck, refusing to pull at the little skin tags that protruded there, while he looked up with a sigh. There were still four more people in front of him waiting to donate blood. He looked around as if to blame somebody for his wait, but ultimately realized it was n't fair to blame the volunteers lined up in front of him, or the phlebotomists. He crinkled his nose, pushed his glasses back on his nose, and returned to the vexing jumble word he was currently stuck on. 
 
 Only 5 letters. It should n't be this hard.
