All the lights are out. This isn't normal. It's a Tuesday and your wife, your kids, your family is all supposed to be gathering at the dinner table for chicken casserole or something like that.
You flip the kitchen switch on and scan the counter for a note, something to explain their absence, but you find nothing. The counter is as bare as your bald head. Not even a crumb is evident. At least it's clean...which isn't how you feel at this moment.
You shake off the feeling of guilt.
Now is not the time to be thinking about those things.
"Honey! I'm home!" you call out.
You walk into your bedroom. The bedroom you've shared with Lisa for the last 12 years and there, lying on the bed, you find the divorce papers.