Perfect Pieces, fiction by Jay Butkowski
D ebbie Fields was perfect. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect grades, perfect body: tan and toned, a golden goddess atop the human pyramid, cheering on the Lesher High School football team as they marched steadily towards yet another state title. She pulled straight As in honors courses; she was vice president of the senior class; co-captain of the debate team and she volunteered at her church soup kitchen. Beautiful and perfect, inside, and out. But the most unnerving aspect of her perfection was her perfect face. Unnatural, perfect symmetry, right down to the number of perfectly long eyelashes on each perfect eyelid. Sparkling, clear blue eyes, a perfect button nose, full, rose-colored lips parting to reveal perfect megawatt teeth, all framed in a golden aura of bouncy, wavy locks. Debbie herself had the perfect temperament: she was patient and kind, never condescending, never glorifying in her own perfection. But her face—her perfect face—had a way of exposing every flaw in eve...