Breathe in, breathe out

1

I approached the house not knowing what I would find. I planned to diligently knock on the door, but when I got there, the door wasn't closed. It couldn't be. Only the bottom hinge was still attached. The door itself was bent, partially splintering apart.

As I was standing in front of the broken door of your broken home, I noticed the silence that seemed to stretch itself out eerily. It stretched over the flowers in front of your house; partially wilted, yet beautiful. It stretched over the yard; with its neatly trimmed bushes; the welcome mat, with its fading letters; the figurine, with its handcrafted beauty, guarding the door, silently.

I took a breath; another one, and reached out to gently push open the door further so I could enter.

Having been inside your house many times before, I don't think I was prepared for this. Your house was always neat, organized, and practically never completely silent. Yet that day, I walked in to find chaos and silence in abundance.

There were pieces of wood and shards of glass everywhere; littering the floor around broken furniture. As I walked past the living room, I could see the remains of the coffee table you loved so much. With its glass surface smashed, it didn't look half as pretty as it once had been. The cabinets in the kitchen all stood open; empty. Their contents were scattered all over the tiled floor in millions of pieces.

When I got to the doorway opening of the room that you never used for anything, which you said was once used as a dining room of sorts, I paused. Here, too, everything was destroyed. The few things you kept in here like the ugly light brown cabinet that got stained by who knows what, which you just couldn't get rid of; the lamp that barely worked; the vase you bought when you were moving in your first apartment. All of it. Broken.

And there you sat cross legged in the middle of the chaos, on the stool you always forgot you had, holding on to your cigarette. Breathing in, breathing out. You simply sat there looking out of the middle window that was still framed by the curtains you loved. The silence engulfed the whole house, but not you. You were the spitting image of liveliness, no matter how still you sat, how little you said.

I stood there looking at you for only a moment, but that moment will always remain in my memory as lasting years and years.

Then you looked up.