A simple two-bedroom apartment. The walls were not so white, and the furniture and appliances were old, but it all emitted a strangely familiar scent.
Upon entering her bedroom, the feeling grew stronger. Whether it was the antique wooden bed or the cartoon-imprinted bed sheet, the dim curtains, or the large photo of her on the wall - that photo was taken ten years ago, before Cynthia arrived. In the image, Emma Smith was only sixteen years old, with a baby fat on her face, dimples when smiling, and bright and upward-looking eyes, as if they would never be touched by sadness.
But after the age of sixteen, their world added a Cynthia, and it seemed like everything went off track.
"Wow, is that my mom?" Little Tommy looked puzzled, raising his head to look at the girl in the photo with amazement.
"Yes, that was your mom ten years ago." Mrs.Smith nodded, looking at the youthful girl in the picture, as her memories slowly filled her heart.
