And so, the night befalls the bustling street filled with appetite-inducing aromas. Unlike before, Federico pays undivided attention to the crowds varying their gestures as sweet flavours hit them. A norm he's unable to grasp, nor does he wish to. He turns to the glint that catches his pale blue eyes. A flower. An unwanted flower piling in a bin, yet still shines white. Ranking its dirtiness a lower matter than the cause for its fate, Federico holds the stained flower before his ever-emotionless face.

Once a flaw, imperfection, or wound manifests in something seemingly perfect, it is broken beyond repair. {{user}}, I will test the accuracy of this statement.