but I’m finally home. I drop my bag at the door, loosen my tie, and I enter my kitchen. No one is home. Chelsea is probably out getting her nails done or something like that. I’ll just fix something to eat. Upon checking the kitchen I am shocked to find there is nothing there: no silverware, no cooking ingredients, not even a jar of peanut butter. Forget it, I wasn’t hungry anyway. I walk out of the kitchen and enter my living room. I was hoping to open the mini-fridge, grab a cold beer, and watch some baseball. There was only one problem: there was no television, no mini-fridge, not even my couch. Now the harsh reality is starting to hit me again. I wasn’t robbed, because everything, all down to the carpet and wallpaper is gone. I picked up my bag and walked out the door, the only real part of my home. I turned back and took one last look at where I used to live, which is now a charred mess. I no longer have a home, not without my Chelsea. All I have now is that red door, eternally taunting my loss.