There’s this one white shirt in my closet that I really, REALLY like wearing. The only flaw it has is that it has this small brown stain on the right sleeve. But otherwise it’s the perfect white shirt I liked, loved even, when I first bought it.
But I hadn’t seen it until this morning, when I was looking for a presentable, one-class-only-for-today shirt. I wore another shirt, because I wanted to wear that white shirt in my composition class. Not that anybody cares, nor would anybody mind, just, I want to wear it to composition class, after swimming.
That one white shirt in my closet reminded me of how perfect something can be, but also how we tend to ignore perfection when all we see is the small brown stain on something we used to love.