I walked into an art studio looking for a painting to hang in my living room. I had learned in a distant past that mass produced paintings were killing the real artists, buy original. So that's what I've always done, even if it wasn't cheap. I had enough money to spare for a painting by some unknown painter. Being a student isn't that terrible. I have enough money to manage, so I could afford one painting from someone who wasn't known. The name doesn't matter if it looks good. An artist should produce something shallow, but she, or him be as deep as one could get. It added up, in some sort of way.

There was nothing there that caught my eye. Sure all the paintings were pretty, but that was it. I didn't know really what I was looking for. I had asked my son what he would think was pretty. He had wanted something with pirates, and a pretty princess. It saddened me that I couldn't see him that much. It's what a criminal record do to you I guess. It doesn't matter what you do, when you have done something wrong. No it isn't that simple. It was nothing there that I liked. A painting of a park, worn out buildings, people arguing. It was pretty, but not something for me. Still it was something about all these paintings. Something I couldn't put a finger on.

I was thinking about leaving but my heart told me not to. It was just a feeling I had. There was a painting that I just had to look at. It was of a girl with long blond hair, sailor hat and mini shorts. With her back towards you she was looking for some ships sailing away. Sure it was a cliché picture. It was just that it was a storm building up over the ships, it was raining as well, just that the rain stopped right in front of her. To me it meant that trouble was sailing away from her and that grey days were making their leave. It was so pretty. Looking around there was some more pictures of this girl, none of them showing her face.

Looking around the corner I must have seen the painter. He was talking to someone, maybe someone interested in his paintings, or someone else's. It was after all the art schools gallery. I was about to leave noticing the scars on his arm. I didn't want to support his habits, but I noticed that they were all old. I wondered why he didn't hide them. I mean, not everyone wants to have something to do with drug users. I was about to look closer at him, but I noticed the picture next to me. It all made sense to me now.

The painting of the park, the park where we used to go to get our drugs. The worn out building was where Itachi lived, and right now I was looking at view all too familiar. It was from our room. I was sitting in the window sill. My face showing now unlike all the other pictures. On the floor a green little dog. At the top left it said "I guess love tore you apart." While on the bottom right said "and you'll go on living life like none of this ever happened." It had been one of the last things I had said to him. I looked around to see if the artist may have been him. They were both gone.

I started crying, I must have been going insane. Why couldn't I just forget him! I need to forget him. "Do you still think of me?" I was sure that I had started hearing voices, but I turned around to see none other than him. "I remember that the last time we laughed was when you told me that dream where you dreamt of a green dog in a painting. You told me that love had torn me apart, and you told me that I could go on living my life like nothing have ever happened. The irony is that you did all those things. I saw how you once loved me, and how I tore you apart. I waited for you, at the train station after selling the heroin I had gotten from my dealer. I had a ticket for you. I knew you went to Itachi, so I left a letter for you telling you to meet me. Why didn't you come for me?"

Sorry, I just got the idea, and had to write it. :]

And I forgot to say this the last chapter, and the one before that. Heh, the song I used was a hidden track on the album Twenty One by Mystery Jets. They're awesome.