Out With The Old, In With The New. Nancy Thompson Robards

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      All I can see is the glowing red taillights of Alex’s car parked in the street two houses down. If the neighbors see me getting out of a strange car dressed like this at this hour, it will look bad. When they hear that Corbin and I are divorcing, they’re going to think I’m the one who cheated.

      Anger merges with despair, and tears brim at the thought of—divorce. It’s like a well-landed punch to the gut. I want to throw myself down on the carpet of grass and bawl, but instead, I limp as fast as I can—ouch, my ankle really hurts—up the driveway to the garage door on the side of the house.

      I must be in more of a stupor than I realize, because it’s only after the burglar alarm blares that I remember the only door you can enter without setting off the system is the front door.

      “Oh shit!”

      My dog, Jack, is barking and throwing himself against the door so hard, I’m afraid he’ll break through. In a matter of seconds, the neighbors are going to look out to see what the racket’s about, and the police are going to arrive to find me breaking into my own house.

      I do what any person in this situation with half a brain would do—I run.

      Excruciating pain be damned, I run as fast as I can to Alex’s car, turning the same ankle twice more before I jump in, and we speed away like criminals.