Perfection

Perfection wasn't something you stumbled upon in his world. There was no process, no way to get to a point where you could be defined as the word. And even if there had been a way, Dalton was almost positive it would take a lot of time and effort, those of which he either had but didn't care to give up, or actually did not have at all.

You simply were perfection or you weren't, and he certainly wasn't it.

You were it if you were born on 'the right side of town' and as anyone could have guessed, he wasn't blessed that way. In fact, he was pretty sure he wasn't, hadn't been, or ever would be blessed at all.

He was actually pretty close to believing the word perfection didn't exist. The word had almost been completely stricken from his vocabulary, just as together, family, friends and the most recently discarded of them all, sanity, had been.

But, as it seemed every time he tried to forget the words existence Kearsie came into his life again, he couldn't force himself to give perfection up. To him that would be like trying to ignore an elephant in the room, like lying about not doing something you obviously did do. It just wasn't possible and even trying made him feel stupid, because how could you forget something that was staring you right in the face?

He asked himself that question a lot and every time his answer was always the same.

You couldn't.