Easing myself out of bed, I dress with the moon as my sole source of light. Spectral shadows in the deepest corners of the room condemn me for what I am about to do. He tosses and turns as if he knows, but settles once again. I halt, listening for signs he’s sleeping.

Tonight is an evening bright as day for the moon ate the dark when it rose in majestic splendor. Banishing the ebony gloom of night and in it’s wake, a promise of better days. It is the first phase of the waning moon; a time to break bad habits, to end bad relationships.
This house once filled with love, is now an enemy. Someone has violated the sacred sacrament of our love. Invaded not only our home, but our minds, and our bed.

Three months ago, my husband came home from a late night gig in a…