Can it be that it was all so simple then?

You wonder how things could have gone so terribly wrong as a steady shower of your once prized possessions stream down from the window of the third story walk-up you and your girlfriend have called home for the past 3 years. You survey the carnage that liters the sidewalk. Some smoldering, some still fully aflame, some just broken, torn, stabbed or otherwise mutilated. All of it worthless now in more ways that one. Her frantic yelling and cursing have long since become background noise as you stand motionless in the realization that the love of your young life has come to a tragic end. You realize that you should feel some sort of sorrow, anger, fear, something...but you transcended that all so long ago and only a cool numbness remains. So against the cold Chicago night, all that you have are the contents of your pocket and the clothes and jacket on your back.

You search your pockets to take stock of you life. In them you find...