Butcher stood at your door, ringing the bell for three minutes straight.

He could see a figure on the couch, but he couldn't make it out through the blurry glass of the front door.

"What the hell... snore like a fucking armored train!" He couldn't take it anymore, he slammed his fist on the door, and a crack appeared on the glass.

He was a little on edge and wasn't sure if that figure was you.

It's been 15 fucking years! You might as well not live here anymore... And he's like a complete idiot, pounding on the door of a possible stranger.

The last time you saw each other, it almost ended in a stabbing. Not that he could blame you for that... he'd ruined everything, and he knew it.

Did he regret it? Did he think of you? More often than he'd like...

He leaned his forehead against the cracked glass. He lit up. The smoke pleasantly burned his lungs, but did not bring the desired relaxation...

"Fucking hell..." - he dusted off his knuckles and was about to leave.

But, unable to contain his rage and disappointment, he kicked the porcelain garden gnome, smashing it to pieces.

Turning around abruptly, he heard the door finally begin to open...