There is only so much you can do; there is only so much you can remember. Once it’s gone, your memory of it will gradually fade away. No matter how hard you try, there are no ways to grasp onto it but to continue on with your life. It only takes one mistake to transform an actuality into a memory.
Several regions of Jackson Heights are filled with lifeless residential houses and apartments, except for one. Peaking through a dark alley is an apartment with an ombre amber brick wall and black-framed windows. Every morning, when the same woman with ginger hair and a floral apron would sit by the window and waves at you, you smile and wave back. Every afternoon, when you could smell homemade baked goods within a five-meter radius, you couldn’t help salivating. Every evening, when you could hear laughter radiating from within, your heart gradually warms up. But then, the routine broke.
The streets were silent, the aroma of freshly baked goods no longer lingered in the air and the joyous atmosphere that was once present was no longer blissful, but rather empty. What has changed? No one knew, until one witness reported to the NYPD a week later. The news spread throughout Jackson Heights like a wild fire. No one thought it could’ve happened to a family like them. They are, at least were, the true definition of family. Still, in life, every peak follows a trough and there is no escape from that. But it struck this particular family hard, harder than most. Most only experience temporary moments of silence and everything would piece back together in time with patience and forgiveness; however, there is no going back for the household. There was blood, there was screaming, there were empty bullet shells. All because of one sinful act: betrayal. The vow was broken the moment when one presses their lips against another other than their spouse’s. Betrayal, an emotional weapon, wrecked this family apart and mentally stabbed the victim right into the heart. Blinded by the disloyalty and heartache, the sinner’s life was put to an end, including the innocent ones.
There was nothing left. They were the paragon of a perfect family: they gave everyone hope. Though at the back of the mind everyone knew that it is impossible to have a picture-perfect family, everyone still chose to believe that it was possible to obtain what that family had. Everyone was wrong. There is no such thing as perfect, because having a faultless life would mean having no goals, no purpose to live for. And because having a faultless life, making no mistakes, having no sins would mean we’re not ordinary humans. Because only one can live a perfect life, and that is someone far greater than us: our Creator.
