//:This is where we used to live

Pushing open the window that led out to the fire escape, he tentatively began to climb in, one leg at a time, looking around carefully as he did. This place was so familiar, but so new to him at the same time.

Memories came flooding back to him as he stood up, once inside.

//:Broken glass, broke and hungry

//:broken hearts and broken bones

~The vase flew across the room, shattering only a foot away from him, and he looked up incredulously, at the woman standing before him. His girlfriend, the mother of his child.

"Just get the fuck out!" She screamed, moving to grab a picture frame on the same table to vase had been on. His eyes widened, she missed last time but he was sure that if she really tried, this time she would probably hit him. Hard.

"No! No!" He said quickly, putting his hands out in front of him in protest. Still it didnt stop her, and the frame came flying across the room, nailing him in the arm. He cringed, swore under his breath as he felt the throbbing pain in his left arm. His right arm shot up to grab his left and he looked up at her, taking a deep breath. "Bitch! You probably just broke my fucking arm!"~

//:This is where we used to live

Not one of the greatest memories he thought, looking around. He remembered everything, just the way it was, years ago. Everything from the peeling wallpaper, to the hole in the wall next to the window, where he had punched, as hard as he could, and put his fist through the wall. The shitty grey carpet, that was supposed to be white. He remembered it all.

//:Why did you paint the walls?

//:Why did you clean the floor?

//:Why did you plaster over the hole I punched in the door?

Looking around you wouldnt know this was the same apartment. He looked down at the floor, no more carpet. It was hard wood now, the orangish color shined up at him, and went as far as the kitchen, where he could see was tiled, bright white tiles. He quickly glanced over the walls. Painted a teal color, white border around the windows, and as he turned to look at the wall beside the window he had just come in, he raised a eyebrow.

Running his hand over the smooth wall, he stared, remembering the way it was, How it came to be like that. He hadnt really expected it to look the same.

//:This is where we used to live

He stepped forward, snapping himself out of the memory, walking across the room to the kitchen. He looked over to the kitchen table, the wooden chairs that surrounded it, the vase of flowers that was sitting in the middle of it. He never had flowers on his kitchen table, when he had lived here. A thoughtful look crossed his face as he bit the inside of his cheek, did he even have a kitchen table when he lived here?

Oh well.

He stepped over to the sink, noticing the lack of dirty dishes, and then looked at the dishrack, no dishes in it, perfectly clean and dry. She probably never even used it. Wasnt there a dish washer here? He turned and looked around, saw the dishwasher and nodded. It was always broken when he lived here, but she would have it fixed. She bitched about it enough.

So why did she need the dishrack? If it was not used?

//:Why did you keep the mousetrap?

//:Why did you keep the dishrack?

Sweeping his arm across the counter, he knocked the dishrack onto the floor, sent it clattering across the tile and it came to a stop in front of the dishwasher. He blinked, and bent down, noticing something small under the counter, and he peered in at it. A mousetrap? Fuck that, he thought, kicking it across the room. He hoped she stepped on it in bare feet, he thought smugly.

//:these things used to be mine

//:I guess they still are, I want them back

The bedroom, he thought, leaving the kitchen and venturing down the hallway. The door was already open a crack, no light on inside, so he pushed it open more, and looked around. The first thing that caught his eye was the bra that was left carelessly on the side of the room, by the wall, the floor was clean other than that. His eyes lingered on that for a moment before he looked to the other side of the room and-

Was that, mens pants? MENS PANTS? He looked closer, and decided that yes, they were in fact, mens pants. So she had some guy fucking around with her too? He knew he had no right to be mad. They havent dated in years, but it just wasnt the point.

He walked over to the dresser and pulled out the top drawer, biting his bottom lip as he saw the mens boxers and large socks. This stuff definatly wasnt hers. She wore panties and bras and her socks were tinier, you wouldnt even think they would fit her, but they did.

"Well asshole," He mumbled, pulling the drawer all the way out and carrying it out of the room, "I hope you get more action than I ever did."

//:Broke into the old apartment

//:Forty-two stairs from the street

He left the apartment through the front door, leaving it open behind him, and carried the drawer over to the railing. He looked down at the stairs spiraling down beneath him, and grinned evilly as he tipped the drawer upside down, watching all the clothes fall, landing scattered on the stairs, some falling a few floors down.

//:Crooked landing, crooked landlord

//:Narrow laneway filled with crooks

//:This is where we used to live.

He let himself back in and slammed the door behind him, tossing the empty drawer to the floor across the livingroom. He couldnt believe how different HIS apartment was. He had moved out of here, leaving her here thinking, good rittens to this shithole, but this apartment was looking better than his own.

//:Why did they pave the lawn?

//:why did they change the locks?

He came here with every intention of knocking on the door, knowing she would never let him in, but he wanted to try to work it out, talk to her, work something out with her so that he could see his kid.

His kid. Where was his kid? He started down the hall again, pausing at the only door that was closed, the door that did lead into a small room that he had used for a mini recording studio, back in the day. He turned the knob slowly, and looked in, almost afraid.

//:Why did I have to break it, I only came here to talk

The walls were pink, white around the windows, and up against the far wall was a small bed with a pink bedspread. It was made up, perfectly, of course, living with that bitch neat freak. It drove him crazy when things were *too* clean.

The neatly stacked beanie babies and small stuffed animals were lining the shelf above the bed and the small white dresser had a barbie doll, play make up, and a small picture frame on it. He walked across the white carpet, and picked up the picture frame tenderly.

The little girl was hugging her mother, arms thrown around her mothers neck, grinning from ear to ear, her teeth white as the damn paint around the windows. Her eyes were blue, hair blonde, and with her face next to her mothers, he could see the resemblance. However, she had his nose, and his eyes. Maybe the rest of her looked like her mother, but at least he had that. And she was the most beautiful baby in the world.

If there was ever one thing he did right... It was her.

//:This is where we used to live

He walked into the livingroom again, after replacing the frame where he had got it from, and closing the door softly behind him. He stopped, listening as he heard voices, and looked down at the floor. This still hadnt changed.

//:How is the neighbor downstairs?

//:How is her temper this year?

He grinned as he heard a scream, and a crash, no doubt something had just been thrown across the room downstairs. He could hear the woman yelling, the man yelling back, and the occasional yelp when he was hit with the flying lamps, plates, anything she could find. He glanced at his watch, time to go. But not before he fixed a few things... He grinned evilly.

//:I turned up your TV and stomped on the floor just for fun

The tv was blaring, and he had overturned the couch cushions, thrown lamps on the floor. He had knocked over a few end tables and torn the curtains down, thrown them onto the floor carelessly. The kitchen was trashed, plates broken across the floor, silverware dumped over the floor, the fridge door left open, a few things scattered, the gallon of milk left laying on its side, chugging milk out onto the floor in a steady stream when he left the room. He could see down the hall, the open bedroom door, the closet had been emptied, clothes thrown on the bed, the floor, anywhere. The dresser drawers had been dumped, all her stuff on the floor, his stuff was out in the hall.

//:I know we don't live here anymore

//:We bought an old house on the Danforth

Fuck her. Fuck that bitch. He didnt need her. He had his own girl, and they were living, happily ever after, as it were. He didnt fucking need her. He had a warm house to go home to, he had a girl, he even had a dog. A fucking family dog. No pets were allowed here.

//:She loves me and her body keeps me warm

//:I'm happy there

He marched across the room to the window, looking out at the tops of buildings across the city, the blue sky stretching far into the distance. He used to stare out at this view, all the time. It gave him peace, it was beautiful.

//:But this is where we used to live

One last thing he had to do before he left... He remembered, walking across the room to the shelf that ran the length of the wall. Picture frames were up there, little knick knacks and a clock. He grabbed the picture frame, the last one on the left, and held it in front of him. His daughter grinned up at him, her long blonde hair pulled into pig tails, her blue eyes shining. He ripped the back off the frame, gently took the picture out, before hurtling the rest of the frame across the room.

It hit the wall and shattered, but he didnt turn. He kept walking to the window and was just about to climb out, when the phone rang.

//:Broke into the old apartment

//:Tore the phone out of the wall

Maybe it was her boyfriend calling, and he would most surely leave a message, and he would probably say hello to his kid in the message, and tell his ex girlfriend how much he loved here.

"Save it for a hallmark card, asshole." He said, reaching across to the table, with the phone on it, one of the only things left standing in this room, and grabbed the phone. He jerked it forwards quickly, and the phone jack pulled slightly out from the wall. He dropped the phone, the ringing had stopped, and put one foot out the window, taking one look back and smiling to himself.

//:Only memories, fading memories

//:Blending into dull tableaux

Climbing down the fire escape, he hopped off the bottom, and turned around the corner, quickly ducking behind a nearby mailbox as he saw two people get out of a cab. The woman, holding a small childs hand, and a purse in the other.

"C'mon hunny," She whispered, the child apparently slowing her down. "Larrys supposed to call."

Larry? What kind of fucking name was Larry? He thought, watching as the little girl emerged from the cab, a small rag doll hanging limply from her free hand. Her mother kept walking towards the big glass door, which would let her into the apartment building, and the little girl looked down at the floor, being dragged along by her mother.

He watched in awe, and then felt a knot rise in his throat as the little girl looked up from the sidewalk, and their eyes met. His heart tightened as she was pulled out of his site, into the building. He clutched the picture he had taken close to him, and stood up, starting down the street quickly.

//:I want them back

//:I want them back