text: The day has been long, too long, much longer than it needed to have been. The anger I feel towards those who have the position of “chairman”, and “head of the board”, or “CEO” is enough to fog over the usually calm mindset I have while driving. The one thing my long day has taught me is that qualification doesn’t outway the politics of modern America's business operations. All I want is to lay down of the couch with a glass of chardonnay that would be considered too full at most respectable restaurants, then slowly drift away into the calm ocean of unconsciousness after an hour of the hallmark channel, but I’m afraid though that my ocean isn’t calm, my full of rogue waves and raging winds. But I shouldn’t daydream, afternoon rush hour has been causing many accidents recently, right now I see why. I finally reach my street after navigating my way through the labyrinth of suburban New Jersey, and I'm greeted by the sight of bright red and blue light dancing on the outer walls of my apartment building. This is the second time this month the cops have been here, and I have had the unfortunate job of witnessing the last occurrence. Domestic assault is never a good sight, especially when you share it with the victim's four-month-old infant. Sometimes I wonder where he will end up after the foster homes, or if the parents will figure their differences out. I get out of my car and my landlord walks towards me with one officer, I feel something is off. My landlord never talks to me, all he does is slide the overpriced bill for my one bedroom, one bathroom apartment under my front door every month. Sometimes I see the shadow of his baggy clothing in the crack under the door, but that’s the most communication we do. As he and the officer approach me I see a sign of guilt in his eyes, but I don't know why, then the officer begins to call my name, not that he knows it, but to double-check that I’m the one he’s is looking for, the one he has to break the bad news too. I bolt up the many stairs and through the yellow ribbon blocking my path up the long flights of this palace misfortune I call home. As I reach my place my heart sinks to my heels, men in navy blue line my living room inspecting the shattered picture frames and broken decor covering the cheap off white shag carpet I got from the flea market last week. The officers leave as I enter, each avoiding eye contact with me more obviously than the last. As I walk through my living room with weak knees, I hear the snapping of glass beneath my leather boots, the texture of powdered drywall fills the empty air. My television, or what used to be my television sits on the floor, concave in the middle, the damage of somebody’s leg all that will be shown on that screen ever again, somehow my sofa is unscathed, no tears of filling anywhere. I head to the kitchen. The aftermath of a whirlwind of greed is all you can see in the place anyone should feel most comfortable. No food has been left whatsoever by the intruders, every cupboard, every spice rack, the entire fridge has been stripped clean. I search throughout my apartment and miraculously I cant seem to find a single plate that is whole, just shards of porcelain scattered throughout. I follow a breadcrumb trail of disaster to my bedroom. My linens aren’t even in the room anymore but instead, sitting on the cold dirt four stories below. My wardrobe isn’t in my wardrobe anymore instead all heaped into a pile next to the bed, with everything there besides the clothes I considered the nicest. Stressed out of my mind I head to my couch, my soft, plush couch. As I sit there in the mess I used to call home a glimmer in the corner of my eye. The reflection of the amber sky gleaming off of the glass. I head towards it and my body is filled with what little happiness it could muster. The label reads “Thousand Oaks Premium Collection”, wine has never been so needed in all of societies expansive existence. I take the whole bottle to my couch, not because I need the whole thing, but because my glass was in a hundred pieces scattered through the shag carpet. I take a break. As I sit down, slumped as much as my sore back will allow, I admire the amber light dance on my walls, uninterrupted by the curtains that used to keep it away from me. Surprisingly this is the most relaxed I’ve been all day. I expect to become even more relaxed as the night continues. I think back about that little boy that I share a bad experience with, I know that happened tonight is more fortunate than earlier this month. I’m thankful all that was stolen was objects, not anything actually important but just things. Objects are just place holders of monetary value, they’re replaceable. I realize as I look across the room at the photos of family now how much I actually have. How much that is worth more than money. But things that you buy with experience, how much cant be stolen from you. Things that bring you more than entertainment, but bring you joy and thankfulness.