Imperfection was something Jake didn't like. Everything had to make sense to him, or else it was useless. He stared up at his wall, all the things he had perfected. The way he grinned at his works. He smiled, and then turned and safe his life, the lenses off his eyes as he said the smile on his girlfriend. The studio seemed to fall apart. His works of art crumpling. "You don't have to be perfect." Freya said, leading him away from Kintur and his own body. He saw the painting, green and purple smeared across his face. The water he had spilled traced along the edges with a pencil. He still had his curls, his eyes closed as his smiled. Nothing was perfect in the painting. But it was him.
