The lily looked perfect in the pale green blown glass vase. There were no flaws to it; not to the long green stem or the creamy white curved petal. Even the bright yellow spadix was perfectly formed. It was a calla lily in every sense of the words, beautiful and magnificent.
But she took a step closer, frowning slightly.
“It’s flawed.” She muttered under her breath.
He came up from behind her and stared at it intently over her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his chest against her back. His arm was coiled around her waist. She wondered if he did it because he actually wanted to, or because it was what he felt was expected of him.
“It looks perfect, babe.” he whispered against her ear, his breath tickling her neck. she wriggled away, dissatisfied with his response.
“But it is horribly flawed. Look closer!” she snapped at him, walking over to the window and staring out, her frown deepening.
She could hear his weary confusion as he walked slowly up to the window, until he was right next to her.
“The flower is perfect.” he said flatly. He’s angry, she thought to herself.
She turned to him, staring at the blank expression on his face. Then she stalked back to the table on which the flower vase was resting, and snatched up the delicate stalk. In her frustration, her fingers caused a nail mark to etch into the otherwise perfect green stalk.
As soon as she’d realized what she’d done, she dropped the flower. It fell delicately to the marble floor. There was a look of dawning apprehension on her face.
“It was perfect.”