Today I was in the canteen.

I was sitting at a table.

Around me were my friends.

My closest friends.

Everyone talked happily.

Then all sound muted.

And the background blurred.

I leaned back and looked at my friends.

Perfect to the point whereby you get scared.

Where situations cannot get any better,

They have no choice but to plummet downwards.

Everyone seemed the perfect image of friends.

Something lit up within me,

The spark of flame that blooms on a wax candle.

Satisfying results, good friends, wonderful family?

It seems like a scene you would see in a serial drama finale.

Not in real life.

Life's a quadratic graph scale.

It builds to the climax before toppling downwards and climbing up again.

Sounds like a case of never experiencing equanimity?

And then I realised I could see the edge of the track.

One that plummets helplessly into a deep ravine.

I knew what it was.

Nothing can stay perfect.

She placed the last puzzle piece down,

It fit perfectly, falling into its position with a subtle click.

A slightest whimper that brought the greatest satisfaction.

She leaned back to admire the stunning work of art.

A long tendril of ebony-brown hair fell onto her face with a soft sigh.

She exhaled, and the strand of hair fluttered gaily in her breath.

A dance, she thought. A dance of accomplishment.

She stood up.

Strange as it was, she was drifting away.

Further and further, till all that was left of the jigsaw puzzle was a faint blur.

What the vibrant crimson had been was now a mere, weak whisper of amaranth pink.

The only constant thing is change,

Isn't it?

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