Damaged Iris

I met a woman in a lift, she was lovely, a natural beauty. She spoke with eloquence and possessed a posture dripping of poise, yet, there was something amiss. Most would not notice such a minute detail in her eye. Something that didn’t glimmer like the rest of the violet glow that cascaded over whatever she glanced upon. I was focused on this dim bit, this tiny iota of realism. Not that the woman seemed anything but genuine, mind. It was more a grasping of a single fault so that I could feel less imperfect… petty indeed, but also, curious. Whatever could someone so naturally gifted have to tarnish the sparkle that radiates and infuses the air, intoxicating all in range to their command? Curious, indeed.


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