There is no such thing as a perfect moment, she has learned that much in her short life. However, there are very very good moments. Moments so good that it becomes a sort of fantasy, a dream, a desperate utopia that she can never again reach. Those moments become idolized in her mind, so that eventually they do become perfect moments, because she has ceased to remember the imperfections.
She’d gotten Star Wars mugs, one with Han Solo and Chewbacca and another with Greedo and Boba Fett. She didn’t want to use the mugs at first because they were special, and she wanted to save the first time for a special occasion. The special occasion ended up being the next day. She chose Han Solo because he’s her favorite, and she made the hot chocolate with milk instead of water because she wanted it to be perfect. She curled up with her hot chocolate and watched Spider-Man cartoons.
The hot chocolate was not perfect. It was delicious, certainly, but it had many faults. It was not as rich and creamy as her imagination had told her, and it was somewhere between lukewarm and hot. Still, it came from a Han Solo mug and she gulped it before it got too cold, enjoying every minute of it and knowing that it was not perfect.
A few hours later she struggles with the homework that is due the following morning, trying to make herself do it and remember it and master it. But all she wants is to rest, to put her head down for a minute or a year or an eternity. She wants to be done with everything. With school, with life. She wants to curl up under thick blankets and never wake up again. She finds herself daydreaming about Han Solo mugs of hot chocolate, and she wishes with all her heart that she was in that moment again, blissfully sipping the perfect cup of hot cocoa.
She just wants another perfect moment.
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