His mind was reeling, his eyes not able to focus on what was in front of him. No, No, No he was screaming as he fell down in the dirt. In front of him laid his wife. Her beautiful face was dirty with smudge and next to her a broken pot. Her robes were torn almost in half and her hands were still clutching the tears in her last attempt to cover herself. Sobbing, the tears in his eyes blurring her beauty, he crawled to her side. Picking her head up he cradled her in his arms. Now his sobbing became mixed with faint moans as he rocked back and forth caressing the face of his beloved. Time stood still as he looked into her face and relived the pinnacles of his love. Images of his wedding, the birth of their children, scenes so fresh he was lost for moments.

After a while his tears ran dry and his voice produced no sound. He looked around at the home he had built for his wife and children. He looked at every stone and remembered laying it in place. He looked at once was the door he built and now there remained only a charred reminder of the love he always found on the other side of that door. Still holding her he smelled the bread she made and how good it tasted with cheese and fish. She took such pride in their little home and now it was ash and dirt, smoldering wood and small pools of water that couldn't quench the fires of evil and destruction.