[ WP ] Portray a normal scene with unbearable amounts of emotion . Make the reader cry .

`` *Keep walking*'' the voice said. 
 
 I looked across the kitchen. My two beautiful children, Mark and Lisa, sat playing with the wooden toys that their grandfather carved for them as he sat in his chair, relaxing after a long life as a firefighter. I remember coming home from school one day, and passing by a house that was on fire, seeing him drag his best friend and fellow fire fighter Thomas, out of a house, and then collapse from smoke inhalation as he made it into the sunlight. His life of bravery served him well during Vietnam, but not once did he ever talk about the horrors he faced, because he always ended in tears before he could utter a word, but the tears told the whole story. 
 
 I took a step. 
 
 Glancing at my kids, I heard [ Chopain's Op. 10 No. 1 ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=Q8IHzqVKugE ) ( listen as you read on if not on mobile ) coming from the radio next to my wife, Grace. She smelled of cinnamon, complimented by the smell of the pasta sauce she had on the stove. An old recipe from her mother, famed in her town where she grew up. Not to say that was easy. She had to single handedly raise her siblings because her mother was too weak half of the time from making poor wages in the factory, coming home looking like the grease she worked with. But with Grace's hard work, dropping out of school to do work at home, they scraped by, hanging on a hair every day. I met her because I worked mopping the same factory her mother worked at. She came in to give her mother her lunch, being careful not to make contact and catch the cold her mother had, but when our eyes met, I saw in her a rainbow of color in the smokey monochrome factory. We dated for years, but I had no money for a ring, so the proposal looked to me to be indefinitely put off. However, her mother never recovered from her cold. It progressed worse and worse until she could n't get out of bed to go to the factory. She laid in her bed crying that she could not go back to the abusive factory and have her soul beaten down and all wind taken from her step so that we could have money to eat. 
 
 `` *Keep walking*'' I took another step, right after I had taken the first one, producing a normal rhythm as I walked. 
 
 A week after her mother had passed, Grace and I were eating the leftover food in the kitchen, when she got down on one knee. The ring she gave me was one of the few items in her mother's will. It was the only thing Grace had to remember her mother, and she gave it to me so that we could live together. As I looked down at my hand today, I can still see the ring, which would never leave. Tomorrow, Grace and I would be going out to her friend's daughter's Bar Mitzvah. 
 
 `` *Faster! *'' I took another step, but refused to listen. A cornered creature who has nothing to loose is more dangerous than that which can be bargained with. 
 
 During the next step, I came a few feet closer to my children. Mark, 5 years old, was the quiet one. Home was where he could escape school, and be surrounded by the only people who loved him. Even if her sister teased him, he only met her unkind remarks with a compliment. I could n't understand why the other kids at school also teased him when he would n't even badmouth a fly, let alone blow on it to make it go away. Tomorrow he was going to his first day of kindergarten at a new school, leaving preschool behind. I already knew that he would make many friends and be happy for the first time in his life. I could almost see a smile creep over his face as he thought about how exciting tomorrow was going to be. 
 
 I clutched the briefcase in my hand, knowing that it was more than a briefcase. 
 
 `` *Come on, quicker! *'' I was tired after just these few steps across the kitchen, the heavy vest I was wearing under my shirt did n't help me much. 
 
 I took another step, clinging to every waking moment, my mind racing, when suddenly I decided I could do it. I looked at my children one last time, to see their bright pale blue eyes meet mine. I turned to my father to see him give me a smile, and I looked over at my wife for her to say 
 
 `` Hey honey, dinners almost ready, I lo-'' 
 
 `` -ve you too'', I said knowing it would be the last time I could ever utter those words. 
 
 `` *Stop chatting, and keep walking! *'' 
 
 `` NO!'' I shouted, I turned towards the window, and sprinted towards it. I jumped with all the strength in my legs and as I leapt with the fury of a thousand suns, I broke through the glass and fell farther and father towards the street, with the last images of my family furiously ingrained into my mind, when the briefcase lit in a fiery blaze. 
 
 ____________ 
 Edit: For clarity, the event takes place in a few seconds, and the normal event is a man walking across the kitchen while his family is portrayed doing mundane everyday activies
