I walked through the empty rooms, memories of my early childhood began developing before my eyes. Running around with bare feet, having my grandma chasing me for the last bite of my dinner and my grandpa sitting quietly in his office reading. I would often hide under his chair like a cat and he’d pretend he hadn’t seen me for hours. Partners in crime, that’s what we were. And grandma simply went along.

Everyone’s picture was there. The wall of fame, as I used to call the big glass divider between the big entrance hall and the corridor leading to the rest of the first floor, where my grandma would pin all of her favourite pictures. She just loved having us around. Pictures of us as babies, marriages, graduations. Pictures of my little niece and nephew were the newest additions to it. We were all torn apart nowadays, each to a different part of the planet. I can only imagine how lonely she’d feel.

I went upstairs where my summer bedroom used to be, now serving as an office space to my cousin. The big window there was also a door to the roof, so I naturally opened it and climbed outside. Everything was the same. The big tank, where we kept our supplies of drinking water, the good old clothesline, where my cousin and I used to play under the fresh drying sheets, and the fire escape ladder that led to the ground-floor apartment. Nowadays, that apartment was getting prepared for my cousin to move in. I’d imagine it’s still covered in dust and fresh paint. I’d say I’m a bit jealous, but then again, my place is not here and it’ll never be. Like the stars above, I can’t be contained.

I stayed briefly on the empty roof and let the evening breeze take my anxiety away. I was still shaking. I really, really needed those moments of silence. And of course, a city like Heraklion never stays silent. My point was proven minutes later when a car passed by the main street, with music so loud it shook the windows and forced my heart to dance in this alien rhythm. Sadness overcame me. There was no point in staying there any longer. All those new skyscrapers were blocking our view to the sea and not even a single star was visible that night. I hurried back inside.

After showering and scrubbing the exhaustion off my skin, I filled the bathtub with hot water and jumped in. I could never get the benefits of a bubble bath. To me, it would always feel a waste of time and energy. However, a steamy pool of water after a quick, lukewarm shower was always enjoyable and, at times like these, extremely necessary. I felt every muscle on my body unwinding. My back and neck gave out several agonising cracks. I closed my eyes and after a sequence of long, tasty breaths, I finally relaxed.

It was so wonderful I could feel my mind dozing off. For a few brief moments, I tried battling it, staying alert, but soon my eyelids gave up and my brain drifted away. Surrounded by the steamy water and the smell of vanilla, I slept. I didn’t dream of anything in particular but even if I did, the cold water made me forget everything in a split second.

I woke up abruptly, thanking the spirits I didn’t drown and stood up to cover myself with a fluffy towel. Grandma would always make her towels extremely fluffy and I could never tell how.

As I prepared myself to get out of the tub, I noticed a pair of glowing eyes darting at me from the window. In my surprise, I slipped and fell off the bathtub and almost hit my head on the linoleum floor. I saved my precious head but my elbows will be terribly bruised tomorrow. After gingerly standing up, I looked at the window once more. I froze. A shadow of a man was glued on the glass and wouldn’t turn away. How the hell did someone climb up there? But as the clouds left the moonlit path, I could see the shape of a cat hanging out on a tree. I had forgotten there was a tree there and my eyes, as per usual, played a distasteful trick on me.

I sighed a deep sigh of relief and prepared myself for sleep. Perhaps a little bit of telly wouldn’t hurt, would it? I hadn’t watched any Greek television in the last whatever years and my curiosity got the best of me. Alas, this decision soon turned out to be regretful so I switched off the screen and strictly told myself it was bedtime.

As I was still silently debating whether or not to get off the armchair I was sitting in, my gaze travelled around the room. As per usual, it was heavily decorated. Adjacent to the television was a long, short, wooden buffet that held all the "good" plates and other crockery that were only for formal dinners. On top of it, there were several jars with sweet cinnamon candy, my grandma’s favourite, books and several small ceramic decorations. On the wall above there was an old mirror where I’d always do my makeup when my cousin would take his time in the bathroom. Next to it a display cabinet with glass doors and behind me a wooden closet. I had no clue what they had inside and whenever I tried opening them out of curiosity, one word could only describe the stuffed mess: memories.

At my opposite corner was my grandpa’s desk. Once a place of study and research, nowadays simply a desk. On the wall behind it, there were many portraits of the long-forgotten family members, parents and grandparents of my grandparents, my grandpa’s dead siblings and my grandpa himself. Not a wall of fame this one, more like a wall of remembrance. And to match the rest, the broken clock.

I could never understand why my grandma was keeping this old clock. It had no use other than adding to the decorating value of the room. Then again, I thought to myself, a broken analogue clock always tells the exact time twice a day and that was twice more than any modern clock. Right now it was telling me that it was a minute before seven and that, of course, was not the case. Then again, somewhere in this Earth, somewhere in this universe, it must be a minute before seven.

After entertaining myself with these musings, I decided that I had become delirious and that it was about time I got up. As I pushed myself up, the old armchair creaked under my hands and I heard a tick. I looked up and the big hand of the clock had moved and bells began tolling. It was seven.