He lay in his bedroom, red eyes blurring his vision, feeling the cold wood on his almost-naked body. He pressed his feet against the slowly warming metal of his portable space heater, looking directly above him but not seeing the ceiling in the pitch blackness of the room. There is never anything to see in reality. He feverishly slid his eyelids closed, allowing the tears to overflow onto his sand-colored skin and roll into his sand-colored hair. "There is much more to look at with your eyes shut," he thought. Instantly, his vision was flooded with light; waves of solid color mocking him and his monotonous surroundings, splashing his face and his frail body with memories of times so good he'd promised to forget them. Within a second he realized, then a second too late, what was coming and yelped as the energized explosion in his closed eyes was soothed and overpowered by some force equally light and beautiful but much calmer and much more painful to recall. The force slithered into his vision, her icy hands brushed across his chest and rested on his shoulders, the force blanketed the other memories completely and with ease. "Shit…" he mumbled, but the force was already upon him, the ropes of fascination tugging him deeper into the growing realness of it, knotting itself around his body. Despite its vigorous manner, he felt comfort in it, he felt almost as if her face was again pressed against his. He felt their minds and souls were again together in trust and promises, the way that had seemed so sincere yet, with time, proved so erroneous he knew he'd never be able to trust himself again. He was almost hearing the sweet melody of flutes speaking his mind, "For the rest of my life… you and I… in love forever…" Almost giving himself fully to the force before, without notice, it rushed away like it had a place to be, leaving his back cold and his feet burning.

With much effort, he bent his knees and let his toes cool like the rest of his body against the bedroom floor. He heard himself exhale in the room that had moments ago been filled with color and whispers and passion. Lifting his hands to clear his again clouding vision, he felt enough strength to stumble onto his knees and then, with his dresser as his support, lift himself up and stand facing his dresser mirror. Given the circumstances, he couldn't make out a reflection and it depressed him nearly as much as his mind's trick had. He couldn't even tell himself apart from the darkness. He walked towards the door and, for the first time all day, wanted to leave his room. There were too many reminders of her in there anyway. He left the lights off and the heater on, deciding not to touch it until it cost him so much that he'd go broke and some people would come and take him away. He'd give anything for someone to come and make him leave his home and drag him to God knows where. He had loved his house, when the two of them had purchased it together. But now it just seemed too fancy and too decorated. He'd give it up in a heartbeat if he had a good excuse to. There were too many reminders of her in there anyway.

Downstairs he sat at his kitchen table, very aware of the unoccupied seat across from him, his eyes wandering from empty countertop to empty refrigerator, the only real food in the room being a box of probably expired cereal that he probably only bought because she had wanted him to. But he was weak and as his hunger became greater so did his rationality and he reached for the sugary cereal, surprised to learn it didn't taste half as bad as he'd expected. He was feeling a little stronger when something caught his attention, more a bright light in the corner of his eye than anything else, but when he turned to see exactly what it was he nearly screamed in surprise. All the thinking of her he'd been doing must have really triggered his imagination, because for about a moment he thought he had seen her standing in front of him, bowl of cereal in her hand, just staring. Staring sort of like she had when he'd come home not completely sober a few days in a row, sort of like she thought his story was sketchy when she asked where he'd been. He told himself he had a very vivid memory and nothing to worry about, but still felt shaken enough to get out of the kitchen. Maybe he was just so tired that he was seeing things. He hadn't slept much at all lately.

Switching the lights off, he noticed he could still read the neon green glow of the microwave's clock, although he couldn't even see his own hand. For a moment he thought about how funny it was that the only thing in the whole goddamned house that he could see with the lights out was something he didn't even buy intentionally. He hadn't bought the microwave for the clock. But it made him sort of happy that he had it, because it was nice to know that there was at least one goddamned thing that didn't disappear in the dark.

In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, but how appealing the mint taste of the toothpaste was only reminded him that he was losing too much weight. The silence of being alone was starting to get to him, so he turned on his old shower radio just in time to hear the automobile advertisements. He thought maybe he should sell his car because he didn't ever want to leave his house again, but then he remembered that money would just prolong the time he could pay his electricity bill. He picked up the small pink hand mirror she'd gotten for them and braced himself to face his reflection, but before he could look he spun completely around, feeling another person in the room. And there she was, once again, her dark eyes fixed directly on him. But this time he wasn't surprised. In fact, he almost felt angry. It was not her house anymore, it was his! She had no right to be there! Especially not now, now that they were over forever. He wanted to yell at her, but she looked so sad and so hurt. Poor, misguided girl; she just couldn't seem to get when to move on. She just couldn't seem to get over him!

"Please leave my house, please leave me alone." There was no answer from her, not even a sign of understanding.

"I know it's hard for you, but you have to listen to me. We are no longer together. We need to be away from each other, we need our own space." Still the girl just stared, her eyes seeming to shine more with each word he spoke.

"Do you not hear me?! I know now that you are not all I once thought you were, but I never suspected you to be stupid!" Not only had she broken into his house, but she was refusing to respond to him! How could she look so beautiful and so peaceful while he was speaking so harshly?

"Get the hell away from me! You're just like our house, overpriced and showy!" And suddenly he blinked and she was gone. The whole room seemed to have changed, it seemed to have become much more still. The only sound was the radio's traffic report. He was alone again and almost felt badly to have been so impatient. But she had asked for it, hadn't she?

Deciding to humor his health, he made his way back to his bedroom, being careful not to look at anything of hers. The familiar sound of the heater relaxed him and he suddenly felt very weak again. Before lying down to sleep he took another look at the dresser mirror, prolonging the time before she'd visit his dreams. Then he collapsed, wishing he was more like a clock.