It is surreall to arrive at this house and find no one about. The quiet, in the past always welcomed, has become oppressive. The neighborhood remains under a blanket of snow and shows few signs of rousing. The neighbors are just returning from work. I stand at the front door, and can hear the occasional opening and closing of the doors of others. But soon my door will be closed, then locked.
The night is looming, and who knows where my husband is. With her, whether on the phone or in person, but still with her. Oh, and she only wanted to close the door on their past. They both care so little for their families. They cry the tears of oppression -- their words like words stolen from a Dr. Phil episode.
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