The silver Range Rover caught my attention as we waited for the light to change and could continue our Sunday drive in opposite directions.
I noticed their hair, the same color of night, while their skin shone pale in contrast.
Outward appearance perfectly matching.
The matching couple matched smiles at each other, their pearly teeth glowing.
Their outward perfection matched.
I couldn’t help but wonder if inside matched too.
And their children? Were they perfectly dark, pale and glowing? Miniatures of the perfect parents.
I pictured their house, perfectly manicured and coiffed like them.
I imagined what their life must be like. Perfect, carefree perfection.
The light changed.
Our silver cars passed each other. Theirs, perfect. Mine, flawed. For a moment, in the intersection, they met.
Still flashing each other black, pale and perfect, the couple drove off in a direction completely opposite from mine. Seemingly oblivious to the imperfections around them.
I couldn’t help but wonder, when someone is sitting at a light, waiting to go the opposite direction from me and my dull, silver car and wild, unkempt hair…
What sort of perfection do they see?