The Perfect Smile

I fold up the sheets on the queen sized bed, fluff the pillows, and sit on the blanket to deflate it. I catch a whiff of bacon and yelp in surprise. “Who’s cooking?” I ask myself comically. I sigh, burnt bacon for breakfast again. I grab onto the sheets in anger and realize the bacon is still burning. I spring out of bed and the sheets follow along. I mumble insults to myself as I rush downstairs to try to save the remains of my breakfast. The smoke detector goes off and sprinklers start dousing my delicious black charred food. I toy with the soggy lump of coal on my plate and decide to throw it away instead of risking food poisoning.

I check the clock and I’m 5 minutes late but that’s alright; it could’ve been worse. I step out the front door and I’m fuming. How? How is it possible for someone to ruin the entirety of his day because he cannot get his damn life together. I call a taxi with clenched hands. I call a taxi because my car broke down. I call a taxi because I cannot get my damn life together.

I ride in silence and nod at the driver’s ramblings. He won’t shut up, yet it’s interesting since I can’t stop ignoring him and he knows it, so he goes on. I arrive at the godawful office and I pay the taxi fare as he smiles at me. My heart does a flip. Then a few more flips. It flutters and settles back in place. That was one helluva smile. That smile might’ve made up for the mess that happened this morning. I smile back and rush to the office cause I’m late and I’m late and I’m late.

I’m climbing the stairs and I trip and fall, the papers I was carrying fly away as my face turns red. People are starting to notice; they try not to laugh but they’re smiling and my face gets redder. Their smiles are so nice. They’re mocking me, yet here I am, reveling in them. I love them and they’re so incredible. I find that I can’t stop smiling either, the ends of my lips twitching. One of the smiles bends down trying to help me. I stop helping myself to stare at her.

It’s perfect. It was contentment with a trace of embarrassment. Narcissism with a hint of self-deprecation. Beauty with no hint of imperfection. And I fall in an endless void. I would’ve died a happy man.

I didn’t.

I collected the papers with her silently whilst my brain made all the noise to make up for the silence and then some. We stand up and she’s still smiling. My heart melts and it continues melting as she says her name, I forget it because, frankly, I don’t care. I flash a dopey smile in response and she’s smiling as well and I can’t stop staring and I know it’s rude but it was so perfect and I needed it framed. I wish I didn’t enjoy smiles this much, but I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t stop.

“And that’s why you’re here. Interesting story, right?” I tilt my head quizzically. I use my knife to recreate that smile on the corpse of her. Oh, did it look so good.