Matsumoto sat on the cold marble counter. Her husband wasn't here. He would never be here again. She had given the maid the night off and the massive Victorian mansion was for once devoid of its usual industrious buzz.
Matsumoto sat staring at the cabinetry of her antique kitchen. A bottle of wine sat on the counter next to her and a glass was securely cupped in her hand. She stared blankly at the glass door in front of her. This house, this very kitchen once held so many warm and fuzzy memories. Memories that Matsumoto now believed were just waking dreams.
She looked around the kitchen. She remembered the countless dinner parties and the little dinners she and Gin shared there. The kitchen table lay untouched for months. The warm glow that once emanated through the house had disappeared. The entire place felt clinical. There was no laughter on this house only screams and shouts and cries.
She methodically took sips of her wine ever so often letting the tart taste of the grapes burn the back of her throat. Her mind drifted back in time. Memoires relayed in her head, taking her away from the cruel reality and back to a better place. Absent mindedly, Matsumoto brought the glass to her lip only to find that it was empty. She tipped the bottle but it was dry. Had she drank the entire bottle? She looked at the bottle dejectedly. Then she stared at the crystal wine glass in her hand. She lifted it until it was eyelevel and examined it closely.
Instantly she was brought back to nights sitting and staring at Gin across the table through the crystal glass. She remembered seeing him smile at her with that one sided boyish smirk that made her heart flutter. His eyes would light up and he would ask her what she was staring at. Matsumoto would merely reply she was staring at her imperfect image.
Now the two chairs were empty. The kitchen was unused. The house seemed uninhabited. The happiness drained away. Every corner and crevice was stripped of everything that made this place a home. It was now just four walls and a roof to Matsumoto. She despised this place. She wanted to see it burn. She wanted to see the flames eat it up and swallow in the hate fire that burned in her heart. She continued looking at the glass. It only reflected the numerous fights that had taken place in these very walls. Thought it Matsumoto could see that hate in her heart swirl. It was just too much for her to endure. She could bear this anymore.
Maybe it was the entire bottle of wine or maybe it was just her will giving up but something made Matsumoto throw the glass. It smashed against the glass door of her cabinet. Both the glass and the door shattered into hundreds of tiny shards.
Broken, Matsumoto thought, just like this home, just like my heart.
Matsumoto felt a single tear fall on her cheek. The tear seemed to sizzle against her hot cheek. She turned and looked at the mirror that possessed the north wall of the kitchen. Staring back at her was a hollow of herself. Her eyes were sunken and dark circle encompassed them. They were red from constant crying. The same constant crying that kept her up at night. The same crying that caused her skin to be so pale it seemed translucent.
Is this really what she has become? A mere shadow of herself? A shadow of the woman that was but will never be again, not since he left, gone to the land of eternal sleep never to return again. This house was Gin's legacy but to Matsumoto the constant reminder of the love that she lost. It mocked her. She needed to be rid of it, to see it burn.
Arai got off the counter and walked over the broken glass that lay scattered on the floor. Her bare feet pierced by the shards but she was numb to the physical pain. The emotional turmoil took precedent and supressed everything else. She walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. It was another room that help painful memories.
Pictures hung from the wall and lined the corner tables and shelves. Over the mantle rested a portrait of Matsumoto and Gin on their wedding day. Their smiled could not have been brighter. What Matsumoto wouldn't do to see that smile that seemed to make even the rainiest day seem sunny and to hear that laugh that sound light purest church bell. What she wouldn't do to feel his reassuring touch when life seemed just too hard to bear. The two figure in the picture seemed to mock her. Their life seemed so perfect in a still frame.
Matsumoto gingerly stretch and took the picture off the mantle. She ran her finger affectionately over the picture of Gin. A small smile formed on her lips, but the smile was short lived. A single solitary tear fell on the picture directly on Gin's face. Matsumoto couldn't stand to look at this reminder of what she had lost.
With a fierce cry she threw the picture in the hearth. The smoldering flames burst to life and began consuming the picture. This wasn't the end though. From the walls, pictures began coming down and going to hearth, feeding the hungry fire. Eventually there was no more space for any more pictures in the hearth.
Matsumoto slumped down against the sofa and stared at the flames dancing in the heart. The pictures seemed to scream out in torment as they burned but as they burned the knot in Matsumoto's chest loosened slightly. However, it was not loose yet. This house was the final bind. It was cold vice like grip that clutched her heart and it had to go. It had to burn.
Getting up, Matsumoto made her way upstairs. She entered the master bedroom that she and Gin once shared. The room lay untouched since the funeral. She walked over to her closet and began taking out all the clothes. She piled them high in the massive bath tub in her master bathroom. She walked back to the bedroom and got all her perfumes. She dumped all of it on the clothes. She got a match from her bed side table and struck it. She watched as the lit match fell in slow motion. As it hit the perfume drenched clothes, the fire roared to life.
A sleeve was ranging out of the tub. The trailed down the sleeve and ignited the bathroom mat. The roaring fire now engulfed the curtains and was beginning to spread. Matsumoto left the bathroom and closed the door behind her as if nothing was happening. She walked over to her dresser and opened one of her numerous jewellery boxes. She extracted a simple necklace with a heart shaped pendant. On the pendant, the words 'my imperfect image' were engraved.
Matsumoto could hear the cracking of the fire but she ignored it. She robotically made her way down stairs and headed towards the door. She didn't even spare as second glance as she exited the house. She knew soon enough the entire house would be consumed by the flames and she would never have to live with the constant reminder of the love she lost.