A/N: A simple one shot; it's actually based off of a story that I got published in a literary magazine. The original was much longer, but I think that point stays the same.

On The Mezzanine

A pale light spilled into the windows, coating the room the grey, cold glow of the winter. Snow was lightly falling, kissing the window and covering it in frost. It was hard to see out of the window. Theodore lay on a couch underneath the window. He could feel the cold coming out of the poorly insulated window; it sent a shiver down his whole body. The couch was on the mezzanine, and it overlooked the rest of the house. It was an old brownstone; the last family that lived in it had the house in their family for seventy years. The Matriarch died the year before, on the mezzanine. She left the house to her son, but he didn't want it. He had his own place, his own life, and he wanted to forget the house. When Theodore moved to the city, he could think of anywhere better to live. The house was worn-in, comfortable; it reminded him of the house he grew up in. There were scuff marks on the floor from running children, chipped paint from moving armoires; it was real.

At the end of the couch he was on was a wall covered in the most horrible wallpaper. Theodore didn't have the heart to tear it down; it was terrible, but it went with the house so well. Golden Brown with hints of purple. He hated it, but he couldn't bring himself to take it down. At the end, where the walls met, were pencil marks. They ran up the wall, reaching half way to the ceiling. The names of the children were written next to them; all the children from the last three generations. Kevin, Marie, Steven, Mark, Audrey, Lauren, they all lived here, grew up here, and died here. He could feel the echo of their lives moving through the house. A whole family, come and gone as if nothing had passed. He stood up and felt the lines they made. They were ingrained in the wall; even if he tore up the wall paper, he knew the lines would still be there. There was something settling about that fact. He felt at ease knowing that.

Theodore looked around him. The mezzanine overlooked the first floor of the house. Their kitchen and dining room were directly underneath him. The living room was further out. In the front were the coffee shop and the second hand vinyl store they ran together. It was closed for the day; he didn't want to keep it open longer then he had to. He ran it by himself for the most part. It was a small town; he wasn't worried about people stealing things, so he usually left the music store alone. He would wander back into it every once and a while when a customer was back there, but it wasn't frequent. Usually people would ask him if he was that Theodore when he was in the record store. It never seemed to happen in the coffee shop, only in the record store. It's as if they knew simply because of the music around them. He would rather people not bring up his childhood. He wasn't ashamed, necessarily, but he was tired of talking about it. That's why they moved out here; at least, that was the reason they gave their families. It was quiet, but every once and a while, someone would recognize him, then everyone would remember his fame.

He walked into the record store and turned on the light. He looked at all of the music they've managed to gather over the last couple of years. It was a really impressive collection. For the most part, it was second hand. Classics, The Beatles, The Who, things of that nature. They would buy new albums to appease the public every once and a while, but they hardly deviated from the main idea of only having classics. It seemed menial, but it was something the both of them wanted. They both needed it to be only the classics. They needed to separate themselves from the present. Theodore walked around the aisles of the store, dragging his hands along the tops of the records as he went. Dust collected on a few of them; his hand kicked it up. The dust solidified the light that crept through the windows, making it all more tangible. He sneezed as it got worse, prompting him to wave around the air from his face, in a feeble attempt to get the dust away from him. He continued to walk around the store, noticing every record they had bought together. Someone opened the door connecting the store to the coffee shop. IT startled Theodore and he quickly turned to face the source of the sound. Standing there was Jessica, the young girl that worked in the coffee shop.

"I'm going to head home, if that's alright," She said softly. She didn't want to disrupt the silence of the shop.

"I closed about twenty minutes ago, why haven't you gone yet? Were you working on something?"

"Oh," she looked surprised, "I didn't know you already closed."

"Yeah, uh, I thought I mentioned it to you."

Jessica looked around the shop, and turned around, "The sign outside still says open."

Theodore walked pass Jessica into the coffee shop and looked at the sign. She was right, "Hmm, well, I thought I had closed for the day. I mean, I did close for the day, the world just wasn't aware of it."

"It's weird that nobody came in."

"Not really," Theodore walked past Jessica again, back into the record store, "These aren't exactly out peak hours, for either store."

"That's true," Jessica paused for a second and Theodore continued walking around the store. "Are you alright, Theo?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Theodore stopped and looked at her.

Jessica slighted and slightly turned away from him, "Considering what just happened, I've noticed you haven't been your usually chipper self."

"Well, considering what happened," Theodore smiled very slightly, "Of course I've been different. If that's what you're saying."

"Not… not exactly, well yeah, I mean, the two are similar. I was saying that I know how you usually are, and I know how you might act, considering."

"Now you're just starting to get confusing."

"I guess, I wanted to ask if you are alright."

He laughed, "Considering, yeah, I am."

She smiled, "That's good," she paused for a bit, "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Oh, well, I haven't really thought about it yet. "

"If you aren't busy, I was thinking of going into town and having a drink."

"Where at?"

"I'm not sure yet, I was thinking the Jay, but I haven't decided on it yet."

"I love the Jay," Theodore paused and drifted around the store for a bit while Jessica stood awkwardly in the doorway, "Sure, I'd love to go."

"Great. When do you want me to pick you up?"

"Jessica, it would probably be better to get a cab or something, or walk."

"You're right, how about I come over at 9?"

"That sounds gre—" Before Theodore could finish, he was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

"How could that be?" Jessica asked. Theodore knew full well who it was. He walked into the living room and grabbed a box and walked back out to the coffee shop. Jessica followed him to the front door, "Were you expecting someone?"

"Yeah, I am," Theodore put the box down in front of the door and peered out of the peekhole.

"Is that why you closed the shop early?"

"Yeah, it is," He opened the door. His brother Alvin was standing there, looking down at the ground. His jacket was covered in snow, and so was he. Theodore looked at him, and he finally looked back, "Hey."

"Hey," He responded, "Is this it?"

"Yeah," The two of them stood there for a second, looking down at the ground. Jessica came closer to Theodore and peered over his shoulder at his brother. She felt Theodore's hand on her stomach; he slightly pushed her back. Theodore reared back his right arm and threw a punch right into Alvin's face. He dropped to the ground, and grasped his face.

"Alright, alright, I deserved that," The box and its contents flew out of the box and scattered around Alvin, "Jesus, that was one hell of a hit."

"I didn't mean to hit you that hard, and I'm surprised you're taking it so well."

"I knew, well, I expected it to happen."

"Am I that thuggish?"

Alvin got on one knee and started to prop himself up, he was bleeding from his nose. The blood was staining the fresh snow, "No, it's just that it's justified," Before he could stand up, Theodore threw another punch into his face; it sent him back to the ground, "Christ," he said softly. Theodore kicked him in the side, as he lay on the ground.

"It's so much worse that you understand how bad it was. It makes me feel so much worse because you know that it was a bad thing to do and yet it still happened. It makes me feel so much worse that you're taking this as if it will absolve you of any responsibility. It won't, you know."

"I know, I know," Alvin said as he lay on the ground, "I just wanted," he started coughing. The kick had knocked the wind out of him, "I wanted to give you some catharsis."

"It doesn't work that way; You will never feel as bad as I do. The wounds will heal. Scabs will form. Scars will taint your skin, but you will never know how I feel," Theodore threw a cigarette down at his feet.

"Thanks," He said as he started to stand up.

"Don't mention it," Theodore closed the door and locked it up. He turned around to Jessica, who hadn't run away, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's alright, he had it coming. But the weirdest thing is that, whenever shit like this goes down, the first think people say is that you should kick his ass, but it never seems to happen. Nobody gets their ass kicked. You just did it, and I witnessed it. Do you feel any better? Does it actually help?"

"I feel…I feel a little better," He paused for a second, she continued to look at him, "How about that drink?"

"That sounds really great right now."