The apartment was just as I left it. No amount of traveling to Switzerland, Armenia or Australia could rid me of the emotions that remained in the small apartment like a layer of dust. The couch was creased from hours sitting watching Netflix. The counters were worn from the different meals prepared on them. The hall tree had a single top hat perched on the top, a reminder of who else had lived in this apartment. A year ago today, I had set out on an adventure hoping to hide away from the feelings and emotions that threatened me. A year ago, I hoped to leave life behind and forget all the memories stored in a single apartment. It was odd how inantimate objects could store powerful memories in the same way art and music could. It was strange how entire memories could be contained in the seemingly ordinary. But I remember every stain on the couch and where it came from. One stain was from a stray bite of macaroni and cheese that landed on the couch. Another was from a drunk night of wine that refused to stay in the glass. Each stain was a moment in life written in the white satin cover. Footsteps echoed through the halls before stopping outside of my apartment. Whoever it was knocked softly and gently but in the silence of the apartment, it echoed like thunder. I went to the door, quietly blinking away the tears misting my eyes. At the door, stood my best friend, Leah, standing awkwardly.

“You’re back,” whispered my friend. Her eyes softened seeing the redness that was no doubt beginning to amass around her eyes. “How are you doing?”

“I was just reflecting. The apartment is just like I left it. I guess it’s strange being here after a year,” I explained with a sad chuckle.

“That isn’t what I asked. How are you doing?” She asked again, grabbing a hold of my shoulders. “Are you going to be okay?”

I paused. The overwhelming sadness was gone, now that I was outside the apartment but I knew when I went back in the depression would sink back in.

“I’ll be fine,” I answered finally. “However would you be willing to help me clean all the dust?”

“Of course,” she answered gently.

We walked into the apartment. Her hand held onto mine firmly, a reminder that I was not alone. A reminder I desperately needed. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for a good place to start clearing out the dust, physically and mentally.

“How about we start with the top hat? Can we get rid of it or at least remove it from the tree?” Asked Leah softly, grabbing the hat carefully.

“I don’t want to get rid of it. It allows me to forget,” I answered shakily. Already the waves of overwhelming sadness were beginning to overtake me. “Leah, how long will I be like this?”

“What you’ve been through has been terrible, the recovery won’t be straight or easy,” reflected Leah, putting the top hat back on the hall tree. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? You’ve never told me the full story. You just disappeared saying Alex died.”

I stared wide-eyed at her as images of headlights, fire, flashing lights and blood ran through my head. Before the tsunami could break land, I took a deep breath and nodded. Leah deserved to know the full story. After all, Alex may have been my husband but he was also her friend.

“A year and a week ago, Alex and I were waiting at home, wanting to watch Netflix but we were feeling restless. After thirty minutes of neither of us being able to make a decision, he had an idea to drive to an abandoned cliff face to watch the stars. I agreed so we got into the car and began driving. We were about thirty minutes away when-“ I paused. This was as far as I wanted to go. Thankfully, Leah nodded reassuringly and her hand tightened. “We were about thirty minutes away when a drunk driver turned a corner and swerved into our lane. Alex saw the car and turned enough that his side of the car took the brunt of the damage. All I remember of the crash itself was headlights, swerving and then nothing. The paramedics took me to the hospital where I suffered a mild concussion, and a sprained wrist. Alex wasn’t so lucky. He was declared dead on the scene. The doctors say he probably died on impact. After I got home, I couldn’t handle being in the apartment so I took a year to travel hoping that the memories and emotions would fade with time but obviously I was wrong.”

I finished, tears misting my eyes at the memories. Instead I looked at Leah who was actively crying. She pulled me into a fierce hug as sobs wracked her body.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She chanted through broken sobs. I couldn’t help the hurricane and decided to let loose. We sobbed together for an hour, all my pent up emotions bursting out. After the cry session, I noticed a new stain on the white couch. I couldn’t help but notice that the stain didn’t take away from the other stains, it just added to the tapestry. Maybe instead of clearing out all the old stains, I should just clear away the dust bunnies.