Shattered Memories

Annie Chang
Shattered Memories
All that is left is a greasy paper bag and a 10-dollar bill. I notice this, as I closely examine the counter-top of my fiancée’s one bedroom apartment. The floors are still wooden and clean, just like the way they had been when the home was first purchased. For three years now since this place has remained vacant – empty; not a single person to create warmth and make it alive, yet somehow, it still maintained the fresh scent of pine. On the refrigerator I find a memo with a name and number written on it:
Janice Barton 212-354-4005
I begin to wonder who it is as I continue to roam around the room and lose focus of what I'm trying to do. Maybe I'm trying to...