Home
There's a glow from a single lamp lighting a window.
It's warm and welcoming in the thick darkness.
Downstairs means she's probably waiting for him to come home, not walking the floor upstairs with a fussy baby.
He thinks of comfort, wrapping his arms around her.
But there are some nights when he'd rather slip into a dark house and change before she can see him, simply joining her in a dark room.
Those are the nights when he comes home with too much blood on his clothes and too much weight on his conscience.
Those are the nights like tonight.
