So, we accidentally find Rutherford, NJ and rent an apartment in a building. It's too small, it's too noisy, and it's too much to take for very long.

We find a different realtor and she tells us about a recent murder in town, the first in generations. A couple rent the second floor of a house. After a few years, they take in a boarder.

Eventually, the husband and boarder begin a gay relationship. The wife leaves. One evening, they argue about the rent. Push comes to shove, literally, and the boarder is dead at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck. What does this mean to us?

We lived happily in that apartment till the day Vick died. It was our final home, and the home of some of my most cherished memories of our life together.

It was here that we finally gave up our personal and household checking accounts, having decided that after 10 years that we were an institution.

It was here that I finally saw my grand-daughter (Vick had flown out to Denver) for the event).

It was here that Vick went back to work to help buy our first new car.

It was here that we survived my first attempt to start my own business.

It was here that I finally was able to do so after several miscellaneous printing jobs.

It was here that we put down OUR roots.

It was here that I lost her forever.

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