When I get back to the apartment, I light the candles and put Fall Out Boy back on. True to his word, my neighbour and his charming friends aren't making any more noise. Thank god for that.

A knock at the door startles me. I cross the room, expertly hopping across the haphazard piles if books, of which I have far too may. Then again, one can never have enough books. I answer the door. Thankfully, it's Brett.

"Hey Brett," I say, opening the door wider. I glance at the clock. "You're really early."

Brett gives me a weak smile. "Early, huh? Look, Lydia, I need to..."

"Sure, come in," I say. He walks inside but doesn't take off his velvet coat. "Is everything ok?"

"Uh... no, not really." He sighs and my features crease into a frown.

"What?"

"Lydia... I think... I think we need..."

"What are you talking about?"

He gazes into my eyes and then delivers the death blow. "I think we need some time apart.

My eyes widen. "Are you..."

"I just don't think this is really working out," he insists, completely ignoring me. "I mean, I care about you and all, but..."

"You're breaking up with me," I whisper, tears starting to trickle down my cheeks. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. "Oh my god." Suddenly, I'm struck with panic. "What is it? What did I do? Is it me? I can change!" I howl, advancing towards him. Gently, he puts his hands on hy shoulders.

"It's not just you," he murmurs. "It's both of us."

"Please, don't go," I whimper as he turns to leave.

"I have to. I'm really, really sorry it had to end like this." And then he's gone, marching down the hallway with his head up high.

I scream after him. "It didn't have to end like this? What am I going to tell my mum? It's my birthday tomorrow!" But it's no use. I'm too late.

I sit at the one of chairs, almost unable to think. I tell myself that this is just a horrible dream, that I'm about to wake up and he'll be beside me, telling me not to worry, holding me like always. But I know that's not going to happen.

I stand up and blow out the candles. I pack up all of the plates, the glasses and the cutlery with silent tears running down my face. Pretty soon, there's no trace of this evening ever happening. But that's not enough for me.

Over the next two hours, I burn all the memories, literally and figuratively. I burn the photos, all the poisoned snapshots of our time together. Because that's what they are now. That's what they always are after you've been dumped.

I light the candles again and destroy our remains, the skeleton of the relationship.

When everything that reminds me of him is gone, I collapse on the bed and wave goodbye to consciousness.