You peer into the empty doorframe to find what looks to be a living room.

A T.V. sits up against a wall. The screen is cracked, but a constant static stays on the glass.

The walls are dull in color and the plaster is cracked in numerous places.

The floor is covered in what appears to be phone bills, notes and magazines.

A phone cradle sits on the floor near a modest hole in the wall. The phone cord runs into this hole. If you stare long enough, you notice cracks spreading outward from the original impact area. Oddly, this hole also seems to have a small force that nudges you towards it.

The two having a shouting match barely notice you. When they do, they use it to further fuel their arguments at one another. The screams are so loud that they are almost unintelligible. They exude a malice and love for one another that can only be had by torn soulmates.

A love seat sits dusty in a corner. You can see small signs of wear from a time long past. A small tear is forming in the middle of it.

Two chairs facing in opposite directions are weary from use. The legs of the chairs are splintered and nearly broken. Each chair has a book laid on the seat. The books' spines are even weaker than the chairs' legs. Flipping through them, you find tear-stained pages in the beginnings and frantic scribblings in the back.

Broken picture frames hang crooked on the walls. The once happy faces seem to follow you as you walk about the room.