He is the type of person who would much rather be bored at home, than outside where everything is unsafe. He prefers safety over anything else. To him, leaving his house means being exposed to every stressor of life. Disease-infested air, and the possibility of falling down the sidewalk, getting hit by a car, falling down a sewer, getting struck by lightning, or even getting shot by a random gunman constantly makes his heart race. He likes to count the hairs on his head and comb each one to make it perfect, and if he misses one hair, he starts all over. When he goes to his cafe for work, he can only stay for a little while because if things start to become disorganized he will break down. When he gets home, he places his coat neatly on the rack, and shakes it out to get all of the dirt and dust from the day away. He then sits in the same, worn out part of his couch with his legs crossed over each other and he watches the news for exactly twenty five minutes. His mind often wanders. He thinks of when he was free, and when all of the sadness within him was non-existent.

   
He feels as though, contrary to popular belief, weekends were possibly the worst thing ever. Long Saturday and Sunday nights where he sat alone in his apartment hearing loud music and laughter in the apartments all around him made him sick. He would lie awake at night to the noises, chomping on his nails, wondering why no one invited him to their apartments for the fun nights he heard every detail of. He would think of his college years, which were just recently. He thought of all the parties he attended with his close friends, laughing uncontrollably in the middle of the night, just happy to be with each other. He remembered one night specifically, it was the Fourth of July. He was driving his car on the beach with all of his friends surrounding him, screaming out the lyrics to “Sweet Home Alabama.” That night all of his worries disappeared and he was generally, and fully happy. It was the type of happy you don’t even have to think about, the kind that just comes naturally.
He used Facebook for a while, in attempts of being social, but he just was reminded of his loneliness. His buddies from college were still close, and they never cared to acknowledge Gregg’s presence. He observed photos of them at bars, on vacation, and at sports games together. He felt a twist of nostalgia and jealousy in his stomach. He would sit in front of his laptop screen and cry, wondering what on Earth he did to deserve being treated like that.

It’s my fault they don’t like me, he would think to himself. If only I could just be normal like everyone else. Sunday mornings his mother would knock on the door with a variety of breakfast pastries she baked. She is a wonderful woman in Gregg’s eyes. She always has a warm and welcoming smile painted on her beautifully aged face. He would cut all of the pastries carefully and arrange them all onto spotless white plates. The arrangement of the food was perfect every time.They would sit at the table quietly eating with the low hum of the television to keep the room from being silent. When they were done eating, he would scrub the plates clean. Often times, he would stand at the small kitchen sink for hours cleaning, and staring at the water.
   
    It all began two years after college life was fabulous and his friends were plentiful. He had a new job as a coffee brewer, and he was married to a beautiful woman. They were so totally in love it was almost as if when they were together, nothing else was real. The two of them were unstoppable, and nothing could get in the way of their success. His mind body and soul were all submerged in this warmness of hearing her call his name. He promised that one day they would travel the world together. Not because he wanted to see it, however, but he wanted to watch her face light up when she saw all of the beauty the world contained. One night, she surprised him at the coffee shop, just before closing. He made her a latte and decided to close the shop early, since no other customers were around. He carefully locked the door behind him and got into his car next to his beloved wife. They played one of their favorite songs on the radio, singing at the top of their lungs for the entire length of interstate ninety seven. It was then when a drunk driver swerved into their lane. It was then when he was so caught up with his beautiful wife and the chorus of the song that he didn’t see the other car. It was then when the driver slammed into their car and he woke up in the hospital with blood in his eyes and heartbreak in his ears. His wife died in that accident, and when he saw her  for the last time, she was covered in blood and bruises. He went on to never forget her helpless body, and he never forgave himself for it.
It was a regular gray day. Gregg was scrubbing his already clean white tiles in the bathroom, when he heard some commotion in the hallway to the apartment next door. His curiosity was telling him to go check it out, but the stress in his bones convinced him not to. He continued scrubbing, thinking about his dead wife, Sarah. He seemed to be missing her a little extra that day. He saw her in everything he encountered; the white tiles represented her perfect porcelain skin. When the tiles weren't one hundred percent clean, he felt as if he was letting Sarah's soul down. As he scrubbed, he hummed a familiar tune that he couldn't exactly place. This hum was shortly interrupted by the sound of a girl's voice humming a similar melody outside the thin apartment wall. Gregg dropped everything and approached his door, ignoring all impulses to clean the mess of sponges and cloth he had made. He opened the door slightly, taking a peek at this beautiful woman with curly brunette hair pulled back half way; wearing a crop top and light flare jeans. She immediately stopped humming and turned towards Gregg, revealing her beautiful tanned face. "Oh, hi! I'm Rose but a lot of my friends call me Ro. I'm moving in, do you happen to know where a girl like me could get some help with carrying boxes?" She rested her palm on the large stack of boxes, right outside her apartment door. Gregg, shocked by how open she was, tried to quickly think of a reply.
"My name is Greg. Here," he started picking up a few boxes. "I'll help." After a while of small talk and moving boxes to their desired rooms, they were finally finished. “With all of these boxes, you would think a whole family was moving in,” Gregg observed.
Rose laughed to herself, “No it’s just me. For now anyways.”
“If you need anything, I’m three doors to your left. The big game is on tonight, if you’d like to come over and watch,” Gregg smiled.
“I think I’m going out with my friends later on, but thank you, Gregg. You really helped me today. I’m so glad.”
A short while later he found himself watching the news in his usual spot, thinking about Rose. He felt really good about socializing and helping out, and all was content in his body for the first time in a long time. His apartment was still spotless, and he was still sitting in the same worn out spot, and the absence of Sarah was still apparent, but something was different. He looked over at the wall, where a shiny frame held a candid picture of him and Sarah. She was rolling some cookie dough and Gregg was just watching her, so in love with everything she ever did. Her blonde curls rested over one of her sea blue eyes. He observed her figure, which she always told Gregg that she hated. He thought it was so perfect, the way her waist was thin but her hips were wide. “Sarah, I love you. I miss you more and more every day. I promise I will love no one as much as I love you, not today, not any day not even-”
There was a quick knock on his door about twenty minutes later and to his surprise it was Rose. "Hi, Gregg. I was just wondering if I could stay in here with you for the game. My friends stood me up- again." Gregg hesitated a little,in shock that she really decided to come,  and then opened the door for Rose to come in. This was the first time someone was entering his apartment since the accident- besides his mother, of course. "Wow," she began. "Your apartment is so-"
"Clean," Gregg finished her sentence. "I know." There was a long pause. Rose sat on the couch and Gregg sat beside her, staring. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was, her long hair and clear skin. “I’ll put the game on,” Gregg grabbed the remote and flipped channels. “I also might have some wine in the fridge.”
“No thanks, Gregg. I don’t drink.”
The apartment was a cool sixty-two degrees, due to Greggs fear in leaving the heat on and racking up the bills. Sarah had always lectured him not to turn it up, and now he doesn’t think twice about hitting the thermostat.  Rose got up and opened a few cabinets until she found blankets. Once she found them, she laid them all  on the floor in front of the couch. Gregg opened the fridge, which was full of leftover breakfast pastries from a few days prior. He cut them carefully, striving not to mess up. He couldn’t let Sarah down, he knew she was watching. When he first laid eyes on the blankety mess, his stomach churned, but Rose's calming presence made him much more comfortable. There was something about her and the vibes she gave off that just screamed “Sarah.”
For a long time they sat, making small talk and picking on the pastries. Rose began walking around, taking a peek at Gregg's pictures. "Who is she anyway?" Rose asked, looking at the picture of Sarah. Gregg went silent. He had never told anyone outside of his family about the incident, but something about the mood of the night relaxed him.
"That's Sarah," his voice trailed off and the sadness in his heart felt like a ship lost at stormy seas. "My wife, my uh, ex-wife. She’s not, uh, with us anymore, if you will.” There was a long pause and the two just stared at each other. Gregg noticed Rose’s cheeks getting red, and he felt as if she was sad.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I really should go." Rose grabbed her things and slowly approached the door.
Gregg stared at her and tried his best to think on his feet; something he only did when attempting to get the attention of Sarah. "Rose, wait! It’s okay, you didn't know." She froze at the doorknob and stared at her knuckles. Gregg watched as her expression went from happy and calm to cold. He looked at her holding her lips in between her teeth, taking a deep breath. She let go of the door knob very slowly, as if she was a puppet being forced into slow motion. She stood there staring at Gregg, pain in her eyes.
"Rose-"
"He was just like you: talked like you, looked like you, his apartment even smelled just like yours, with the lack of heating oil in the air," she looked down at her toes. "As soon as I set foot in your apartment, I felt his presence, however I tried to hide it. His name was Robert. He was everything I needed and more. We met in high school and from then on, we were in love. He always dropped everything just for me; he’d change his whole day around to make mine the slightest bit better. He was one of those people, you know? They type of person to completely forget about themselves. I'll never forget hearing the police knock on my door at two in the morning; praying it wasn't about him."
"You don't have to go on."
"Alcohol, man, that stuff kills. I'll never understand how messed up someone can be as to drink until they forget all the pain and to get behind the wheel of a vehicle.” She looked up, letting a tear roll down her cheek. “I mean, the loss of his job was hard, but I don’t think it gave him the excuse to drink until he couldn’t remember, until he couldn’t feel. He crashed his car and he was gone. He took the life of a beautiful woman in the car he collided with, and the man was severely injured. November 17, 2011. I'll never forget," she was sitting now, fingers intertwined with Gregg's. They both had tears in their eyes.
"That was him," Gregg began. "That was the night I lost my Sarah forever." They were both a little shocked at this new discovery. "I clean to forget about her. I can't leave anything imperfect, I can't let her down. I think about her within everything I do. Sometimes, I really believe she is there with me, you know?”
“That’s why I had to move. Everything in the apartment screamed his name and it was too much for me,” Rose looked at the ceiling and there was a long pause. “I know he’s dead, but I don’t think he’s actually gone. I see signs all the time. When I found this apartment, I felt so calm. Call me crazy, but, I think he led me here. I think he wanted me to find this place and to find you.”
That day changed Gregg. He now focuses on things one day at a time, not worrying too much about what Sarah thinks. He knows that she is watching over his every move and as long as he is happy, she's happy. He cleans only when it is needed, and he visits Rose often. They've become close after that. Whenever one feels that the other is upset, they meet up with cups of frozen yogurt and hours of Xbox and laughter.
Sometimes in life, bad things happen. It feels like you'll never recover and you'll be stuck in the same broken state forever. Well, you need to know that it gets better. No matter what you go through, it will get better. Hang in there, and dream on.