My back door was kicked in.
The porch light was on, even though I never left it that way.
A neighbor stood in their yard staring, phone pressed to their cheek.

“Robert, I called the police—twice!”
I barely heard them.

All I could think was:

Not today. Not after losing her. What else could possibly be taken from me?

I walked through the splintered doorway ready to confront whoever dared destroy what little was left of my life.

And then I stopped cold.

The House Was Broken Into… And Being Repaired