Precious things

It’s very quiet
The breeze causes some unknown objects to collide occasionally
Outside of the apartment
Very quiet sounds that faintly reach through the windows
The sky is overcast and clearing
Light
Curtains murmuring, then lying still
The woman looks to her side
At the hole in the wall
The rough edges of the short tunnel to the exterior
Motionless signs of violence
Then down at the toilet
The blood
Inhale
Open mouth
She stops
The man is looking at her
Close mouth
She raises one arm, hand to her head
Fingers through the hair
The motion is completed by her turning her body
She walks out of the bathroom
Slow, paced footsteps to the door
Open
Down the hall
To the next apartment door, left ajar
She enters
Inside is an open living area identical to the one she has come from
Chaotic scatter of objects on the floor
On the walls there are empty frames
The images seemingly taken from them, yet replaced on the wall
Some few photos on the floor deemed unnecessary in haste
She goes to the bathroom
Opens the door
Exactly the same but without the gaping hole
Steps to the toilet
Turns
Undoes the buttons of her jeans
Hooks her thumbs into her underwear
As she bends at the knees, the fabric makes a long, dry rasp against her skin
Dragging all the way down to crumple around her ankles
She places her elbows on her knees
One forearm diagonally out before her, hand hanging at the wrist
The other, up to her forehead, heel of the hand against her brow
She closes her eyes
Inhale through the nose
Exhale

The man looks at the bathroom
Slowly examining every surface
Every detail
The shapes the blood has made on the floor
Then the small counter and basin
The glass
Stare
Slow blink
Reaching across to touch it
Closes his fingers
Smooth, cool, solid, perfectly circular
He lifts it slowly
Turns to the door
Exits the bathroom
Walks through the living area
Slowly looking about the room
To the kitchen
Notes the different sound of his feet on the floor
Cold tiles after soft carpet
At the sink he finds two glasses on the counter
One half-full, the other empty
Stares
Reaches across to the tap, lowers the glass in his hand
Fills it with water
As he shuts off the tap he listens as tiny bubbles burst on the surface of the liquid
Then stillness
The quiet of the apartment
Of everything
Almost inaudible, he hears a muffled rush of water through the wall
He turns around to face the apartment door
Leans back against the counter
With the glass of water in his hand, he waits