Perfect (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 6.75: A Lily Or A Rose

Chapter 6.75: A Lily or A Rose

              Perfection is a bleak and weak word.

              …

              “I envy lilies, Enid. They’re perfect in my eyes. With their serene magnificence, they appear a haven of my soul.” Ethan was in his caramel fudge outfit, a dark brown long sleeve that engulfed his whole arm, his knitted white vest and a thick caramel scarf that bonded him with sweetness and dense shroud of isolate fashion.

              Ethan cleared his throat. “I heard about the spectacle,” his words stopped running around in circles.

              “T-T-That one?” I-I-I hope you’ll not hate me for being informal,” she bowed in shame, her head on the auburn tiles and her hands stiff over her books.

              “You’re like a lily, Enid. I envy you for that,” he answered with a small convex line on his lips.

              Enid kept her head, isolated underneath her dense black hair.

              Ethan’s smile faded in desperation. He sighed and lifted his books over his scarf.

              As they pass, heads with different and various puerile admonishments stared at them in inquisition… in scrutiny. They tried to dig up every sick fact yet curious ideas, about the sudden flip of the rusted coin.

              “Another day on the road less traveled,” he smirked. “Wait… no. This is no ‘another’ day,” he quoted. “This is a new day… on the road less traveled; something new,” he inhaled deeply with his head feeling nervousness.

              “Why?” Enid asked without looking at him.

              “I never thought that there were violet cherry blossoms in our roads,” he sighed and opened his locker.

              …

              Serena sat still on the dirty white bleachers. Her hand-held newspaper flipped through the pages of a 10-paged Walter Stories episode.

              ADVICE SECTION: EDITOR’S NOTE

              The shouting capitals in a black Arial font phrase yelled at her.

              She inhaled deeply, bracing her rose within.

              “Dear Letter Sender,” the statement pulled a black hole gravity and conjured profundity within an illogical reader.

              The angle altered as her eyes relatively scanned the whole page. The letters crawled their way across Serena’s reflecting stare. It grabbed her as thorough as it can. It gripped on her conscientious consciousness that seriously put up her most definite care and attention.

              Life is cruel. It continues to be. We are the ones who’ll change for it. Not them.

              It caught her.

              Maybe change is too ambiguous in our view. Perfection is too. Elegance from a rose’s beauty is perfect with its malevolent romance yet benevolent in its peaceful Allemande. It is perfect. It is… for some eyes. A glare will never change if the rose itself will not. We change to be perfect… to be perfect in everyone’s eyes. Through that, we become imperfect in this world’s perfection.