“I like this picture,” she says. TwIrLing her cocoa-tendrils.“Why?” asks the sophisticated art major, cleaning her thick-rimmed glasses on her button-down tailored top,
“Because it’s pretty,” the pink-adorned pixie-youth replies.
“You're so stupid, sometimes. I mean, WHY? What do you like about it? Is it the colors or the shapes or the patterns or the actual design?”
“It’s just pretty”. The art student rolls her eyes at the base thoughts of her little sister, thinking how she knows nothing. Resisting herself, the youth pulls harder at her own satiny tendrils. She cannot resist anymore, reaches and tears the pciture into pieces. First just in half, then smaller, smaller, smaller. Continuouscontinuouscontinuousuntil a fragment of the multicolored-clad paper is left - like sad confetti at 3 PM on the second of January.
“What the HELL did you do that for?” screams the student, near tears.
“I thought it’s what you were asking me to do,” replies the youth, matter-of-factly, dry-eyed and dryly.