I have to wonder what the glitch was. What caused your hand to slip, one finger marring the view of your subject? Or perhaps it wasn’t you at all. I seem to remember that about you. How you never take responsibility for your actions. It is always the fault of the other guy. You take something so lovely. Something so pure and leave your mark. A sunset, the sea, a kind woman; it is all the same. You take perfection and bend it to your idea of perfect—inventing, instilling, triggering that one imperfection. You create a sunset with a glitch.
By Lisa H. Owens
Just 100 Words
100 Word Stories - August 2020 Photo Prompt
Keep it simple:
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