These things, they go away
Replaced by everyday.
.-°-..-°-.Five years later.-°-..-°-.
A relaxed quietness filled the house.
The window was open, letting a gentle breeze come in, making the cream coloured curtain flow up the wooden table. There was an ancient lamp on it, scattered colourful pastels, an incomplete draw, keys, undefined other papers, a few cheap pen-holders, an opened envelope with a bill it, a vase with red flowers, a motocross magazine. At the side of the table, a pitch black-screened TV, with a simple brown sofa in front of it. In the middle of the room, an elegant black grand piano; on the lucid painted surface, a small framed photo - a black haired woman, a black haired man, the latter carrying a beautiful blonde child - all the three of them laughing like idiots.
Hanged on the main wall of the room, right ahead the piano's stool, something in complete contrast with all the other peaceful and innocuous object in the house.
A long, long, slightly curved disturbing sword.
Suddenly, a noise of hurried stomps down the stair broke the peace of the room - at the same time, she left the kitchen, a paper bag in her hand.
"You're late again! You will never learn, will you?" she apostrophised the cheerful blond boy who was running down the stairs.
He, on the other hand, just threw his arms around her neck with a 'mmmh', and smiled widely soon after, showing her his teethes.
"'m not late. Dad's usually far more late that I'm now, sooo.."
"Yeah, right" she tried to hide her smile while forcing the paper bag in his rucksack. Then, she started shoving him towards the door. "And now go. The teachers don't give a damn about the fact that your father's a worse latecomer than you"
But the boy's gaze was drawn to the sword - his smile disappeared, replaced by pure fascination.
"Mom" he begun with rapt and curious voice "Is it true? Is it true that this is General Sephiroth's old sword, and that you've been his secret lover? You still are..?"
Her expression, while she rolled her eyes and smiled, gave nothing away.
"Say - you really have to ask this every morning?"
And, as every morning, she didn't answer