As my finger tips slip from the cold gold door knob, I know I’ve left for good. The warm brown wood of the front door stares me down reminding me of what I’ve left. My eyes glance over the cream colored house, the lights are still on filling the rooms with an orange colored hue.

“Goodbye, it was a good run. But nothing good ever lasts.” My words come out soft and sentimental. I turn my back on the house I once knew and loved as a shaky exhale escapes my lips. I flick the wooden match out of its box and swiftly swipe it. It glows a burning orange flame and I throw it behind me. Any evidence of the crime committed will be burned along with the sweet happy home. I will miss my wife, her soft voice, heart lips, fluffy hair that runs to her sides, the little giggle that escapes her lips when she laughs. But she shouldn’t have pissed me off when I was drunk and had a knife in my hands. This is her fault not mine. Right? Who am I kidding, I ruined everything. Just like I always do.