A short detour from the paved stone floor of the main road lead to a bakery. Kurt frequented the bakery every seven days. The madame in charge made the best pastries in the whole district. Sara would rave to Kurt about them every time she had a craving for sweets. Their days were quaint and peaceful. When the sun rose, Sara would kiss her husband good morning before she left the warmth of their shared bed. She always said the best way to start the day was with a nice breakfast. One of their three hens in the yard would likely have laid a fresh egg. A sunny-side up egg was Kurt's favorite to have on a warm loaf of bread. Every evening Sara made sure to prepare a loaf to rise through the night so it would be ready in the morning.

While the egg sizzles in the iron pan as the bread bakes in their stone oven, Sara churns a cup of cream into butter. Like every morning, Kurt's large hands come from behind her and take the wooden spoon away. He'd kiss the back of her neck and thank her for her labors so far as he takes over the remaining workload. The two enjoy their breakfast as the sun rises, shining the pale light through their windows. After the meal is done, Kurt washes the dishes while Sara changes from her work attire to her outing dress.

"Tell the Petersons I said 'hello' dear." He says to Sara, kissing her cheek while she primps the collar of his jacket.

"I will my darling." She says, returning the kiss before reluctantly parting.

Ever since the two married, they've felt nothing but bliss. The busy but quiet mornings they would share a meal. Lazing about on a weekend with no work, with her cozied up in his lap. Catching a faint wiff of smoke in the air while they lay down for the night after she's blown the flame out of the candle. While others thought it was incompetent, Sara loved the way Kurt struggled to keep his sleeves clean until the end of the day. Her siblings always called it annoying, but Kurt thought Sara's humming while she cooked was the best melody to his ears.

Desperately, Kurt wished to hear the sound of his wife's humming one more time, instead of the incoherent yelling of the officers surrounding his house as it crackled in the flames. Explanations, apologies, nothing but excuses came out of their mouths. An intense pain throbbed in his temples as a storm of thoughts swirled in his mind. How could this have happened? Just this morning they were exchanging words of love to one another. Kurt was eagerly returning home after another day's work. Everything was as it should be.

He never would have taken those three minutes to stop at the bakery if he had known.