The Songbird's Kiss And The Hidden Guilt

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Mark and I were married for six years.

Then he got himself a little songbird.

She was pretty, sure.

The type that shrunk back if you raised your voice.

So, of course, Mark never yelled at her.

But this little bird got bold.

She came chirping to my front door.

That's when Mark lost it.

He read her the riot act, good and proper.

The next day, she sent me a picture.

It was her neck, covered in hickeys.

"Oh, honey," the caption read.

"Mark can be so rough, I'm scared."

I stared at th