CHAPTER ONE

"Mark, this is disgusting!"

Giselle looked around the apartment with a look of disgrace. Piles of trash filled the bins. Dirty laundry covered the floor. Several half-eaten pizza boxes sat on the coffee table. "Why is this place such a mess? I was only gone for a couple of days?"

Marcus rolled his eyes. He glanced up from his video game as the flat screen blared the latest first person shooter game. "Dunno. Just kinda happened."

Giselle threw an old shirt at him that smacked him in the eyes. "Please, clean this up. I don't want to come home to these kinds of messes anymore. Especially not right after work trips."

Work trips.
Marcus sat up with a heave and looked up at Giselle with a lazy glance. "I'm so sure your trip to Colorado was such a drag. All I wanted to do was relax while you were gone. Weren't you basically on some kind of vacation?"

"No. It was meeting after meeting about different ways to evaluate patients on a more naturalistic approach, versus prescribing them constant prescriptions and medications."

"In a five star hotel. With hot tubs." Marcus retorted.

He stood up with a stretch. Giselle was a licensed psychologist through a very high-end institute on the upper east side of Weston. Her work provided all forms of various bonuses and awards for their employment. To him, this trip was no different. With Giselle away, whats the harm in a little relaxation.

Giselle ran her hands through her brown hair. Her eyes darted around at the mess that covered their home. "This place is disgusting. Help me clean it up."

Marcus kicked over the lid to a pizza box and found a slice of cheese and olive that stretched over the carpet. "It's not that bad."

Giselle glared at him as she ran to the kitchen and put her bags on the counter. "When did you become such a slob? I'm sore and tired from the bus ride back here. I'm going to take a shower. If you're as nice of a fiancé as I remember, then you'll have this all clean before I return." She sniffed her blazer and shook her head with a sour expression.

She turned on the balls of her feet before disappearing down the hallway. The click of the bathroom door ended the conversation.

"Fiance." Marcus told himself, as he began to clean up the room. "There's that word again. What does it mean to be married if not a slave?" The idea of listening to Giselle boss him around for the rest of his life almost made him nauseous. Resentful.

His mind wandered while he cleaned the house. It was a modest two story white picket fence and back yard bundle they had bought together two years ago. With his job in insurance going well and Giselles degree earning fat stacks, they were very comfortable. Relaxed. Even talked about life with children and a dog. A fucking golden retriever.

He rubbed his eyes. They were sore from excessive gaming. How long was he playing for? 10. 12 hours? Too long.

The sounds of the water running in the bathroom echoed around the home. Marcus tidied the place up and adjusted several photos and books on the shelves and bookcases. He tossed the boxes in the trash. Vacuumed the floors. Just as he was finishing up, Giselle stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair was up in a bun with a towel wrapped around her body. She looked at the room and smiled. "Much better."

"Mhm." Marcus said. "Did you have a nice trip?"

"Like I said before. Boring."

"Oh."

The two stood in silence as Giselle went to the bedroom to change. "Don't you have work today?" She asked.

"What time is it?" Marcus grunted, as he turned and looked for a clock or phone screen. He pulled back a curtain and was greeted by the bright rays of the sun. They burned his eyes and he stepped back with a hiss.

"Almost that time." Giselle told him. "My bus ride was an overnighter. I'm exhausted. You need to get to work."

"What a nag." Marcus said under his breath. "I don't tell you how to do your job."

He was greeted by a shoe thrown directly into his face.

"Okay. You win."


The office was buzzing with energy as Marcus typed away at his corner desk. His screen was filled with client tracking numbers and I voices for recent sales he had made. His company specialized in home and auto insurance. He made salary but if they were doing well, they were offered commission. Unfortunately, he hadn't made that bonus in months. Work had been a slippery slope that felt more like a chore than anything.

His cubicle was littered with post it notes and taped pieces of paper with special insurance offers and prices. His feet were propped up on a paper shredder as he held his keyboard on his lap. His eyes glared at the computer screen with...