I walked around my ransacked house, glass crunching under my shoes with every step.
Picture frames lay on the floor, the freeze-frames of memories captured inside of it shredded apart,
so violently it seemed as if a violent animal did it.
Nothing in the house was in order anymore. Tables flipped over, cabinet doors hanging from a single hinge, dirt from potted plants all over the floor. The curtain rails have been thrown through the window like spears. The damage was done.
What have I done.