First Memory.

He loved you, but you loved him more. Someone always loves more. He meant more to you than you did to him. You didn't think of it that way when you were with him. And when you're not together anymore, it all comes back. You lie to yourself, you try to forget some things, you pretend like it never happened.

One night you're walking back home, you go past the coffee shop where you shared coffees with him. You walk past the bookstore where he knocked off a pillar of books when he tried to sneak up to hug you. You find that the bakery shut it doors five months ago, but you didn't notice. Because you stopped going. And then you reach the house where he no longer lives.

You know someone else lives there now. You know him. You look up the window to find his back towards it. His silhouette.

As you look, the silhouette appears to change, becomes shorter, darker. You think you see smoke where his right hand ends. You blink and the flashes of the house's previous owner ends.

You knock on the door and go right ahead without waiting for a reply. With every step up the stairs, you feel something slipping away. You walk slowly but surely. He calls out to you, tells you that you're still important to him. You don't say anything. He says he still needs you. You have few steps left and you can hear his voice fading away. You reach the last step and through the door you see the figure next to the window. The voice stops and the memories are shut.

You look at the room and see the walls no longer have paint peeling off of it. The fan works, there's a television set in the room. The curtains are a brighter shade and the corner of the room isn't stacked with empty beer bottles.

As the person next to the window walks towards you, you realise, today will be your first memory of the house.