a look inside

Daniel furrowed his brows as he stared at the photo in his hand. He had never considered himself to be a violent man. Violence seemed to be something below him. He was better than that. He was smarter than that. And yet, here he was… a somewhat future accomplice in something vile and so wrong… and yet he didn’t feel bothered by it at all. Sighing, he touches the photo, frowning when he notices the crease along the edge of the photo. He hated creases. Daniel preferred… perfection. Every morning he would wake up at 6:30 exactly. His routine never changed. He would be out the door by 7:23 and by 8:00, his Modern Art class would commence. It bothered him to see how unkempt so many of his students were. So many students came in with tussled hair; wrinkled clothing… some appeared to have not even showered that morning. It disgusted him. But not this one. Between 7:51 and 7:58, he would walk in. His silky, blonde hair always looked… perfect. His clothing were never wrinkled, he never looked as if he had just rolled out of bed and hurried over to class. This young man even had time to go to a café and buy a cup of coffee. His art work was exceptional; though Daniel would never admit such a thing out loud. At times, Daniel would see him smile. His smile was perfect. At times, he would overhear him laugh. His laugh was perfect. This young man, this future artist, was perfect. Daniel had felt a sudden emptiness when the news had announced the young man’s disappearance. Daniel didn’t care about the reason. Was that wrong? Should he have been saddened to hear that so many people were murdered? He wasn’t. What bothered him, what perhaps even saddened him, was that he wouldn’t be able to watch Perfection enter his classroom every Tuesday and Thursday morning between 7:51 and 7:58 am.