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I let the box fall out of my hands onto the hardwood. “Stop asking me. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Please. Give it a rest.”

Tina’s eyes get big, and she sets her box down. “Sorry, I’ll stop. Just concerned.”

I note her concern, but right now I need some time and space. It’s not like he cheated on me, or abused me. We just fell out of love, or never really were. Love is something that can’t be measured.

The movers continue to bring in furniture, and I direct them where everything goes, and that takes a bit more stress off my back. Lee let me take some of the furniture that I picked out when we moved into our original house when Sherrie was born. At first, I told him I didn’t want to take anything, but he made a good point. If we were married, I’d be getting 50% of everything.

Lee won’t use half the money he earns in his lifetime. With us gone, he will probably work until midnight and never find someone else if he doesn’t change. His work has always been a big component of our issues, but it also let us have a certain lifestyle.

When Sherrie was first born, he took two weeks off of work, and helped ‌tremendously, but once he went back, things shifted and never got better. He worked constantly; no matter if we were on vacation or sitting at home. The firm had taken over his life, and we were just background pieces for him to move around.

It doesn’t mean he’s a negligent parent, and someone might be okay with being in the background, but I’m not. I want someone who wants to rush home from work to be next to me, not come home at midnight, give me a kiss on the cheek, and go to bed. We were more like roommates than anything.

“Anything else you need, ma’am?” one mover asks.

I shake my head, hand him some money for a tip, and he closes the door behind him.

The living room is not big by any means, maybe four-hundred square feet, and the loveseat fits snugly against the wall. It just leaves just enough room for my cherry oak side tables that were passed down to me from my mother. The size is adequate for just Sherrie and me. We don’t need anything extravagant.

This new lifestyle will take some getting used to, because before now I never paid attention to my bank account before swiping my card. Sherrie depends on me now, and things like groceries, utilities, and rent are now at the forefront of my mind. I barely bring home two grand a month. Hairdressers aren’t exactly rolling in the dough, but I have loyal clients.

“That’s all the boxes,” Tina says, taking a seat on the couch, catching her breath.

“I’d offer you a drink, but we have nothing in the fridge yet,” I say.

“Why don’t we go grab some lunch and then do some shopping?” Tina suggests.

I know I’ve worked up an appetite and Sherrie has never been one to turn down food. “Come on, sweetie. We’re leaving for a bit.”

She comes running down the hall and straight out the door. “Can we go to the diner? Pancakes, please?”

Grapevine is a nice little town that I’ve grown to love, but when I was a child, I dreamed of living in a big city. The schools here are fantastic, and there isn’t a lot of crime. It’s a place where the kids can walk to the bus stop without getting abducted. In a big city, not so much. Lee tried to talk me into moving to Dallas a couple of times, but it wasn’t the best decision for Sherrie.

“The diner it is.”

Am I worried about how my daughter is going to handle the move? Yes, but at some point I have to be honest with myself, and leaving Lee is the best decision I made. Now, I have a real chance of finding someone who will give me what I want and more. Sherrie might not understand it now, but in the long run, it’s best for both her mother and father to be happy, even if it’s not with each other.

Sometimes staying in a relationship for the children does more harm than good.

2

BRODIE

A dispatcher alerts the crew of an emergency on Stratford Ave and the alarm blares inside the station. I shove my feet into the fire-proof steel-toed boots, and snap the suspenders against my shoulder as I pull on my fire retardant pants. Thick gloves slide over my calloused hands as I rush to get all my gear on. Heavy boots run across the floor to get into the truck as Damon jumps in the driver’s seat, and the engine rumbles alive. Echoes bounce off the high truck bay walls, and then the bay door opens. He turns the sirens on and pulls out onto the street toward the address.

It’s about four in the afternoon, and the roads are crowded. We have to be careful with slowing down at intersections, so as to not collide with any other vehicles. Most drivers slow down and move over, but there is always that one asshole that doesn’t. It’s like playing a game of chicken, and they do not want to get into a crash with a fire truck. They build them strong and will demolish any vehicle.

As we pull on Stratford Avenue, the cloud of black smoke is billowing in the sky, and flames are already consuming the structure. There are no police on scene yet, and no one standing outside. There must still be people inside. Normally, we always assess how badly damaged the structure is before going on, but with the indication of possible civilians inside I don’t wait, but proceed with extreme caution.

“I’m going in,” I yell to Damon, as he and Jeremy prep the house.

“Me, too!” Tristan yells, following after me toward the crumbling house.

Entering the house, smoke is drifting at the ceiling and sliding under the doors. Flames are licking the walls, bits of curtains are crumbling, and we split up to check the rooms. We need to get in and out as fast as possible to avoid the roof caving in on us.

“Anyone in here?” I yell, but with my mask on, the echoes of debris falling around the house mutes me. So, I just keep yelling, hoping someone will respond. Every second inside this house is putting us in danger.

The kitchen table collapses as the legs turn to charred stumps, and I rush through to get to the bedrooms. The door is unlocked, but no one appears to be inside. I check the closet to make sure and move on to the second bedroom. I bust it down to find a young child, around six-years-old laying on the floor. There is a vase broken on the floor, and cracks on the window.

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