I just realized that I am posting this a day before Valentines day too. Is it wrong that I see a touch of humor right at this moment?
He collected himself from the floor, and looked around the room. It felt like a war zone. Trash and dirt were everywhere. The room was in disarray. He did not feel much better, his mind still in a fog. He stood and walked from the living room to the bathroom.
As he passed the photos still on the wall, his attention was drawn, not to the photos but to the green flecks of glass embedded in the wall. "Damn, I missed." He lingered on the photos briefly, reminded of when they had met. Then his gaze fell to the ground. Little was left of the bottle that hit the wall or the rose that it had held.
In the bathroom he stripped down and stepped in the shower. The room filled with steam. Under the downpour of hot water he closed his eyes and lost himself to the stream.
She was there, in the shower with him. In better days they would shower together. He smiled then punched the wall. The demons at bay for the moment he let the hot water release the tension from his body again. In the past he would not linger in the shower, but right now he still felt dirty. The feeling was deeper than just his skin and it wouldn't wash away.
When he finally turned off the water and stepped out he dried off. He brushed his teeth, an effort to clean more of the pain away, as well as the funk of days past. He realized that he wasn't sure of just how long ago it had all gone down. He felt like he had been floating through the apartment for weeks. He was in a different place, a dark place that could have swallowed him.
In the bedroom he sifted through the drawers looking for something to wear. He found a t-shirt and some shorts. They would do for now. The bedroom wasn't in as much disarray as the living room was. The fight must not have come this far. After the bottle shattered on the wall he lost track of her. She must have slipped out right away.
A majority of her things were still here. It must not have been too long since the fight. She hadn't risked coming back for her things yet.
The monkey from the park was still on her nightstand. He had won it, playing the ball toss on their first date. She kept it. Tylar was their first kid, their only kid. There was an emptiness he didn't want to explore.
Instead he left the bedroom for the living room. It hadn't changed. The mess was still there. On the plus side it hadn't gotten worse, but it hadn't gotten better either. He went into the kitchen and pulled the trash can into the living room.
He picked through the trash in the living room, and threw away the worst of it. Dirty dishes were piled on the coffee table. As bad as the mess was in the living room, he was making headway.
With the larger pieces of trash gone it was now a matter of vacuuming the whole room. The broken glass was still the biggest issue if he didn't get it all cleaned up soon.
He went to the closet to get the vacuum. Her coat and purse were gone. They should have been in there blocking the vacuum. He pulled it out with only a moment of hesitation. He plugged it in and finished the floor.
After putting the vacuum back he took the dishes to the kitchen and filled the sink. Her ring was sitting behind the soap. She always took it off when she washed the dishes. She never wanted to damage it.
She had just finished a load of dishes when the fight started. They carried it from the kitchen into the living room. The ghosts lingered for a few seconds more. He shut the water off and filled the sink with dishes. It only took a couple loads to finish the rest.
The kitchen itself was fairly clean. The battle had happened in the living room. This left the kitchen itself unscathed. Still he wiped down the counters and the table. He then grabbed the broom from the pantry and swept the floor. He took her ring from the back of the sink and slipped it into his pocket. He put the broom back in the pantry.
In the room he found a box and put the pictures of them from the wall in it. He did the same with the pictures on the end tables. He walked around the room and picked up anything of hers he could find and placed it all in the box. It was all just motion. He spent little thought on the actions. When it was all removed from view, there was also little of him left on the walls or in the room. The living room felt empty, the life that was there was now gone.
He moved on to the bedroom. Again he put everything of her in the box, cleaning the room of her presence. The results were the same in the bedroom as they were in the living room. There was an emptiness that wasn't there before.
He set the box in the living room by the door. He stepped back into the bedroom and changed from his shorts into jeans and put on his shoes. He then went back into the living room and grabbed his coat. After getting his keys he grabbed the box and stepped into the hall.
It wasn't a long wait for the elevator. He stepped in. A neighbor from one of the upper floors was inside already. They did not speak, he wasn't ready for that. They rode to the ground floor in silence. A furtive glance was exchanged between the two of them but nothing more. They stepped into the lobby, then outside into the winter air. Though the air was chilly, the frosty edge wasn't as strong as it had been. Spring was around the corner.