With fluidity, Charles took out a chilled bottle of water from the fridge and balanced it atop his forehead.
The cold that seeped into his skull seemed as pleasant as the sight of the gently swirling water bathed in the purple light.
The sound of the leaky faucet disturbed him.
Six drops per second.
Still, he didn't let it bother him.
As the fridge door closed, his gaze fell on the picture attached to it.
It was a beautiful picture by most standards. But to him, it seemed imperfect.
Something niggled at the back of his mind.
The picture wasn't right.
No, it certainly was not right.
'But… No, it's not.'
The deep recesses of his mind struggled to comprehend the contradiction in his feelings. The neurons sent contradicting signals.
Somewhere between understanding and doubt, his expression remained.
He felt put off. It was unpleasant, his taunting fiancée in the picture.
She looked so right only days ago.
