A week without Emma.

I have no idea what this is... Something new, I guess. Feedback will be very much appreciated.
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A week without Emma.
 
Six days ago; Monday.
 
'Emma' the napkin said.
Emma... Who was she again? The blonde or the brunette or maybe the redhead with the nose ring? Liam stared at the words; the usual 'call me', the phone number, the kiss (not just three X's, she'd actually kissed the paper, leaving a lipstick stain) and that name, Emma. The napkin smelled of perfume and something that might be wine: nice. Holding it to his nose, Liam tried to make the room stop spinning; he was very hung over and, no matter how nice she smelled, he couldn't remember Emma for the life of him.
 
Five days ago; Tuesday.
 
"Emma!" Liam shot up in his bed, groping the sheets for the napkin, but it wasn't there. He sat there, dazed, what day was it again?
The dream he'd just had was fading from his mind.
Why wasn't he remembering? "Urgh," he moaned, clutching his head, "Urgh," it echoed from the other side of the bed. For a moment or two, Liam blinked against the light pricking through a hole in the curtains. "Urgh," it resounded again, but he hadn't said anything this time. His eyes widened and he turned his head to the left (which wasn't an easy job, his brains were throbbing like mad). A stream of auburn curls stuck out above the comforter. Liam carefully lifted it up and peeked underneath. That was the redhead with the nose ring already, but was she Emma?
 
Four days ago; Wednesday. 
 
The redhead with the nose ring hadn't been Emma. In stead of being Emma, Liam was sure she was a professional street fighter. Just like she hadn't been Emma, the person staring back at him from the mirror couldn't be Liam. Liam was much more handsome, less bearded and less...bloodshot.
He dabbed at his newly acquired black eye with a napkin, not the napkin, just a napkin. No, she wasn't Emma.
 
Three days ago; Thursday.
 
Why should he care about Emma? He didn't even know who she was! All he knew was her name, all he knew was her name, he seemed to forget everything else the moment it happened. Then why did he remember and why did he forget? The room was spinning again, Liam felt like he was living a rollercoaster. Broken bottles lay strewn over the floor, glass everywhere, blood on his feet. The cat tiptoed through the chaos, are you Emma?
 
The day before yesterday; Friday.
 
Answering machine: Don't call this number again, you freak! Emma doesn't live here anymore! She left! Left without saying...
 
Liam: But why did she leave?
 
Answering machine: We had a fight... She said she was going out, but it was Sunday... It... It's none of your business!
 
Yesterday; Saturday.
 
Liam was sitting in the bathroom again, nobody had bothered to clean up the glass. He wondered why, forgetting he'd been living alone for the past three months. Though he had been partying non-stop... The napkin had been recovered, the cat had dragged it into it's den. 'Call me, Emma.'
The cat hadn't been Emma either.
 
Today; Sunday.
 
Shut up, cat! Liam's hungry too, you know! Liam's hungry and cold, still in the bathroom. He's remembering Emma. The blonde had been Emma, but she isn't anymore. Not. Anymore. His eyes are wide again and bloodshot still.  He's shivering, finally remembering; he knows where she is, Emma. Not caring about the glass, the new cuts on his feet, he walks out of the room, passed the mirror, without looking; he doesn't want to know who's reflection he'll see. It won't be Liam anyway.
 
Out of the way, cat! Liam opens the closet door, something falls out... Emma. He kneels down next to her and lifts her hair, the blonde had been Emma, but not anymore.

~The End~