She looks down at the sketch she’s been working on this morning. A picture of Regina and Henry together and smiling. It’s one of the last good memories she has of them before the accident happened that changed their lives entirely. They’d been eating breakfast, the three of them, and Regina started a food fight that wound up leaving them all covered in flour, whipped cream, and strawberry bits. In the picture, Henry’s face and hair are smeared with white, a smattering of red here and there, and a huge dollop of cream on his nose. His eyes are wide with surprise, crossing as he tries to focus on the addition to his face. Regina’s forehead is resting against his temple, eyes closed with delicate crow’s feet more pronounced around them as she laughs, nose wrinkled up and mouth open. Emma remembers having taken a picture of it at the time, but she doesn’t have her phone now, so all she has is her memories to draw on, as unreliable as they’ve been due to the meds.