<p>On the northeast side of town there is a house.</p><p>The house was once magical filled with love and joy and plans for the future.</p><p>Inside its walls are many things that belong to me — my books the china from my mother on my wedding day the beautiful cage once home to two birds now empty just like me.</p><p>And a man.</p><p>A man who also belongs to me.</p><p>A man I no longer wish to keep.</p><p>A man who no doubt has not slept though the sun is rising. Because the house where he waits is where I laid my head to rest every night for eight years. Until last night.</p><p>No one who knows me would believe Charlie Pierce the quiet bookish girl who never made waves is pulling out of the driveway of a man who isn’t her husband.</p><p>But they don’t know me at all.</p><p>I don’t even know me.</p><p>Not anymore.</p><p>They say there are two sides to every story and I suppose in most cases that’s true. But the one I live inside of? It has three.</p><p>On the northeast side of town there is a house.</p><p>But there is no longer a home.</p>
