Trevor is shocked to find that there has been a break-in at his apartment. Some valuables are missing, but even more devastating for Trevor is items of little monetary value but which mean the world to Trevor have been damaged. Trevor finds it hard to cope with what has happened and if it wasn’t for the support of his friend, Eric, he doesn’t know what he would do. Thanks to the break-in, and Eric, Trevor learns which of his possessions he truly treasures.
Trevor didn’t think he’d ever be able to move. If he moved he would somehow give credence to the scene before him. If he could stand still, stop the next second from happening, it wouldn’t be real. His books wouldn’t be scattered like so many dry leaves around the room, some torn and split with twisted spines and pages fluttering by the inexorable passage of time. The long treasured pair of photographs of his parents wouldn’t be ripped in two, lying among broken fragments of glass and wood, intermingling with the torn scraps of more recent photographs of his close friends, the nearest thing to a family he had left.
He looked in disgust at the broken pieces of centuries old pottery, not particularly valuable except as links to memories of the good times in his life. Why had the thief had to destroy what they didn’t want to take?
Suddenly he was moving, running, heart pounding in his chest.
“Trevor, Trevor what is it?” Eric’s voice followed him, but he could not speak.
He rushed into his bedroom and made straight for his bedside table. It wasn’t there. He looked, really looked for the first time at the bedroom. His clothes were strewn everywhere, some slashed or ripped. All the drawers were pulled open and the contents were disturbed and stuff had been yanked out and dumped. His closet door was wide open and his clothes either shoved to one side or piled on the floor among his shoes and other clutter. The shelf above had been cleared and open boxes, files and bags were strewn over the bed and floor. Again there were books and a few small artifacts that he’d used as ornamentation strewn haphazardly among the debris.
Trevor still couldn’t see what he was really looking for. Desperation was stealing his common sense and he couldn’t think properly. He spun round and groaned in frustration.