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Home, what a strange word that was. It was a word that was hardly ever used. His was on the road, where he belonged. Sure he loved the comfortable bed and the small bits of civilized life that a permanent home brought, but out on the road, touring, recording, promoting, those were his life, or at least the used to be. He didn't even know what to do. His entire being had been turned upside down and there he was, twenty-four hours later sitting in his vehicle in the driveway of his pretty expansive house.

It had been so long since he had seen it, he nearly forgot what it looked like, with its Rock-like structure on the front, and the vinyl siding ont he sides. The dark blue shudders and the double doors matching thier hue perfectly. The gardens strategically landscaped, the bushes, the swing underneath a great everwood tree. It was a beautiful house, two stories, with an attic and a basment, a four car garrage, a huge pool, a basketball court, and an ocean view. This was home, his home.

Well, not just his home. His wife and son were there too. But those thoughts never seemed to inch into his mind. He was married and a father, but yet he didn't feel like one. He knew the two of them were there, waiting for him, but he never really came, nor hardly cared. He retracted half that thought, he loved his son greatly, but that was because he was part of him, not just genetic wise, but in many other father/son ways. His wife, though loving, beautiful, smart and everything he wanted, just never seemed to inch her way into his mind. They had been married for over five years, and their love candle had all ready extinguished on his side. He love her once, that was for sure, he loved her deeply and with every fiber of his being, but that was a long time ago.

He met her through mutual friends, who thought they would be perfect for one another. When the two met it was like fireworks. If he had believed in love at first sight, that's what it would have been. The two were inseperable, their love apparent for all the world to see. Nearly two years after they met, the were married with a baby on the way. The first two years of marriage were great, but after that it all just seem to go downhill from from there.

It was because of his career. He finally started to make it big as a solo artist. The third year of their marriage, he toured for that entire year, only coming home for a week, at Christmas, then he went to London for seven months to record his second album, and then he promoted the release for nearly four months, which followed with a planned two year tour, but his second album didn't hit, and after the first year of the tour everything fell apart. His marriage was in shambles and so was his career.

He dreadfully got out of the car and slowly inched his way up to the house. They'd lived here for five years, and yet, he still didn't have a set of keys. The thought would have made him laugh, but not this day, not after all he'd been through. Finally after ringing the doorbell the door opened to reveal his wife, clad in a pair of bluejeans and a simple crimson shirt, who looked at him with puzzled look evident on her face.

"Nick, what are you doing here, is everything all right?" She was worried, but of course she'd be, she wasn't expecting him home for another 4 months, Christmas.

He didn't even speak to her, he just walked in, right past her and up the stairs to one of the guestrooms.