A locket lay open on a wooden table. The metal was tarnished and old, but the picture was unmarked.
The picture was a joyful one. The man and the woman with their son. The woman with a loving smile as she watched her husband and child. Her brown hair falling loosely in front of her face, her brown eyes warm with love.
The man held his son, his face proud. His eyes, slightly hidden by his auburn hair were glancing at his wife, reflecting her loving expression. He looked happy, his face was open and relaxed.
Their child was still very young at the time the picture had been taken. He was smiling, his smile full of innocence, wonder, and curiosity. One of his small hands grasped his father's thumb, while the other reached up to tug the man's hair.
Seeing the joy in the picture, you almost didn't notice the exphere on the woman's hand. You almost could forget that the man would soon be forced to kill his wife. You could almost forget that the child was separated from his father. You could almost forget that the child almost had to kill his father while trying to save the worlds.
Almost. But not quite. For it would happen, has happened, and can no longer be pushed aside.
But at least the peace, the joy of this moment would always be preserved.