I was back at my apartment, sitting on the couch and staring out the window. I needed something to do to keep my mind busy. When my mind was busy, I wasn't thinking about Tony and Desirée.

But I couldn't think of anything else to do. I had been doing so much cleaning over the past two days that my apartment was spotless. I also had blisters on my fingers that were causing me pain. Though the pain was a good distraction. Maybe that was something I could use?

But before my mind could wander further down that troubling path, I was distracted by the sound of my phone. Picking it up from the table, I saw it was a text message from my old neighbor, Mrs Jones. She was saying that I needed to go round there, but didn't say why.

That sounded like the perfect thing to take my mind off my problems. I replied to her message to say that I would come over there right away. It probably wasn't anything urgent, but I didn't have anything better to do.

I slipped on my sneakers, and grabbed my keys and backpack. Then I made my way out of my apartment. I wasn't really in a subway kind of mood today. It took more patience and calm to ride the subway. Instead I walked towards the main street and looked out for a taxi.

The city streets were always busy. Whatever time of day or night, they were filled with the heaving masses. Moving and bumping and shouting. Always loud and angry. So many lives, all important and necessary. All more important than me.

The taxi came to a jarring halt, and my head bumped into the glass of the window. When I looked up, I realised I had arrived outside my old house. How had that happened? I didn't even remember getting into the taxi.

I grabbed a handful of bills from my purse and passed them over to the taxi driver. Then I climbed out with a mumble of thanks to the driver.

The street looked so old and familiar. Like an old memory from a different life. A memory from when I had been a different person. I had changed so much these past few weeks, that this street no longer felt welcoming to me.

My old house felt so distant. It was colder, but just how I remembered it. Apart from the wooden board over one of the windows of course. Wait, what was that doing there?

"Olivia. Hi there, sweetie," a voice called out behind me.

When I looked around, I saw Mrs Jones coming out from her house. I slowly walked across the street towards her.

"Hello, Mrs Jones," I said.

She walked over and gave me a warm hug. "Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked, as she stepped back. "You don't look too good. Have you been eating properly?"

Err, had I been eating properly? I couldn't remember. I think I had a bagel for lunch yesterday. Or was that the day before? I just hadn't been feeling hungry lately, that was all. But it was fine if I missed the occasional meal.

"Yeah, I've been okay," I said.

"Mmmm," Mrs Jones didn't look convinced. "And it doesn't look like you've been keeping on top of your laundry either."

It didn't? I looked down at my clothes. Actually, now she mentioned it, I realised that the sweatshirt I was wearing was kind of dirty. There was something yellow down the front of my chest. Mustard, maybe? Though, when had I eaten mustard?

"Err, yeah. I hurried over, so I didn't have time to change my clothes," I said.

Mrs Jones was giving me a look of pity. I wished she would stop that, I didn't deserve her pity. Not after what I had done. But no, I needed to stop those thoughts. I needed to concentrate on something else.

"Err, what happened to the window?" I asked.

"Oh yes, that's what I messaged you about," said Mrs Jones. "Someone threw a rock through the window."

"Oh, right," I said. "That's not good."

"Jim put the board up, but we didn't have any keys to get inside and repair it properly," she said, then turned and called out towards her house. "Jim. Olivia is here."

After a moment, Mr Jones came out of the house. "Hello sweetie," he said,as he gave me a hug. "Oh dear. Have you been eating properly?"

"I already asked that," said Mrs Jones. "Just go and fix the window while I go and start cooking dinner."

Mrs Jones went back into her house, while I followed Mr Jones across the road. It had been a while since I had last been back here. A month, maybe? I wasn't sure. But however long it had actually been, it felt like longer.

There was a large pile of letters behind the door when I tried to open it. I gave the door a hard shove, and sent them scattering through the hallway. Then I stepped over them all, and walked through into the front room.

When I went in, I could see there was broken glass everywhere. There were loads on the floor in front of the broken window. But there was also some on the couch, and a bit on the rug in the centre of the room.

Also, in the middle of the rug, there was a large rock. That must be what has been thrown through the window. Just sitting there, minding its own business and wrapped up in paper and string.

"It looks like there's a note on it," said Mr Jones.

A note? That would be a bit cliché, I thought. Though it did look like someone had tied a note to the rock before they threw it in. Curiosity took control of me, and I walked over to take a closer look.

I carefully picked up the rock in one hand, then tugged at the string. Once I had got it loose, I slipped out the piece of paper. Then, Mr Jones came and took the rock from my hand so that I could unfold the note.

Once I had unfolded it, I turned the note over to see what it said. In large black writing it said, "¿Dónde está el dinero?", whatever that meant. I shrugged and handed it across to Mr Jones to have a look.

"Dondee est el dinneroo," he said. "What's that, some kind of Mexican?"

"Err, I guess," I said. "Do you know what it means?"

"No idea, I never learned any Mexican," said Mr Jones. "Probably just kids messing around."

I shrugged. "Yeah, it could be," I said.

"Anyway, do you want to clean up all the broken glass while I measure the window," he said.

There was a dustpan and brush in the cupboard under the stairs, so I walked back out into the hallway. I opened the door to the cupboard, and stepped inside. The dustpan and brush was down in the corner behind the vacuum cleaner.

When I got back to the front room, I kneeled down and started sweeping up all the little bits of glass. Luckily we had a wooden floor all through the first floor, so it was easier to sweep up the glass. It was just the rug and couch that were harder. After spending a few minutes picking out bits of glass by hand, I gave up and went to grab the vacuum.

It was much easier to just suck up all the glass with the vacuum, so I was soon finished. Once I had put the vacuum back in the cupboard, I went to see how Mr Jones was getting along.

Mr Jones was busy talking to someone on the phone, so I sat down and waited patiently for him to finish. After a couple of minutes, he put his phone back in his pocket and turned around to talk to me.

"You're in luck," he said. "My brother-in-law, Josh, owns a glazing company. He was on a job nearby, so he will pop over soon to replace the window."

"Cool," I said. "That's, umm, lucky."

"Yep. And it gives us some time to talk while we wait for him," said Mr Jones, as he walked over and sat on the couch beside me.

"Umm, okay," I said, quietly.

"I've got four daughters, and five grandchildren," he said. "So I've had years of experience dealing with problems. I can tell there is something wrong with you."

Wait, he had four kids? I had never seen any of them, apart from Cassie. Though when I thought about it more, it did make sense why they had such a big house when there were just the two of them living there. I had just always assumed that Cassie was an only child, like me.

"So what's wrong?" he asked. "Has something happened?"

"Umm, no, nothing much," I lied.

"Something has changed about you," he said, as he stared closely at my face. "The twinkle in your eye has gone. Even after your parents' funeral it was there, but now it's gone."

"I just haven't been sleeping properly, that's all," I said.

Mr Jones looked at me with his eyebrows raised. But before he could ask for more details, I heard the sound of the doorbell. It was a familiar sound, but one that I had forgotten all about. Hearing it then brought back lots of memories of a time when I was happy and innocent.

"I'll get it," Mr Jones mumbled when I hadn't moved.

His grumpy tone reminded me of my father. Sitting in the same spot on the couch and complaining about something I had done. It reminded me of happier times.

Mr Jones came back a moment later with some other old guy who was carrying a bag of tools. They were in the middle of a conversation that I couldn't follow, so I decided to go put the kettle on instead.

Going through the cupboards, I found some mugs and tea bags. Once I had put the kettle on the stove, I went to the refrigerator to grab the milk. But when I opened the refrigerator door, I stupidly remembered that I hadn't been in here for a long time.

The milk had expired months ago. When I took the carton to the sink to pour it out, it came out looking more like yogurt. I would have to make the tea without milk.

My mum used to drink green tea that she had without milk, so I decided to make some of that. I went back to the cupboard and hunted through to find the box of green tea, then placed a bag in each mug. I slowly poured in the boiling water, and watched the colour change as the water swirled around inside the mug.

Once the tea was brewed, I put the mugs on a tray and carried them out to the front room. Though when I offered them to the two guys, they just stared at the mugs with a puzzled expression.

"What is it?" asked Josh.

"It's green tea," I said.

Josh looked at me, then down to the cup, then back at me. "It's okay, I'm not thirsty," he said.

"Yeah, I just had a coffee before we came over here," said Mr Jones.

I shrugged, then took the tray back to the kitchen. I placed the tray down on the table, then sat down and took a mug. I slowly took a sip of the hot tea and savoured the flavour. Well, it wasn't particularly nice to be honest, but I sat quietly by myself and drank it anyway.

Once I had finished, I tipped the other two mugs out and stuck the three mugs in the dishwasher. Then I walked back out the kitchen and into the front room.

By the time I got back out there, Josh had finished fitting the new window glass. He was just putting his tools away as I came and sat down on the couch.

"It looks good," I said, as I wasn't sure what else to say. I mean, it's just a plain looking window, but it seemed appropriate to say something nice. "How much do I need to pay you?"

"It's already taken care of," said Mr Jones. "He owed me a favour, so he fixed the window for free."

"Yep," said Josh. "Well it was nice meeting you Olivia. And Jim, I'll see you for Thanksgiving at Sheila's."

Then Josh picked up his tool bag, and Mr Jones saw him out. After a few minutes I heard the front door close and Mr Jones came back.

"Well, dinner should be ready," he said. "Or did you have anything else you wanted to do over here?"

"No, dinner sounds good," I said.

Well, I wasn't actually that hungry to be honest, but I kind of had to pretend. And so we left the house and walked back across the street to the Jones house. When we entered, we were greeted by the smell of spaghetti and meatballs.

That had been one of my favourite meals when I stayed here before, but now I felt something different. I couldn't quite describe it, kind of an emptiness and unenthusiastic.

I sat at the table, while Mr and Mrs Jones chatted about something or other. I wasn't really listening. By that point I had run out of energy for socialising. I needed to sleep, of I could, then maybe tomorrow I would have the energy to talk to people again.

At some point, they stopped eating and Mrs Jones started to clear the table, though I had only eaten half of my food.

"Is everything okay, Olivia?" Mrs Jones asked. "You look in a daze."

"I'm just tired," I said. "I think I'll just head home and have an early night. I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning."

They didn't look like they believed me, but I ignored their objections and left anyway. After a short walk I managed to hail a taxi to take me home. Though I did get out of the taxi about a block away from my apartment. That meant I could stop off at the liquor store to buy another small bottle of vodka.

I had drunk half of the bottle by the time I walked into my apartment. So then all I did was kick off my shoes and crawl into bed.