The perfect sweater

It was the perfect sweater

Soft, purple, cashmere

luxuriously covering her thin frame

smoothing out sharp, jutting edges

She felt warm and royal

until a gust of cold air pushed through her cube and touched bare skin

where only purple cashmere should make contact

A small hole created by separated fibers

chewed and passed through by a moth on its way to tastier things in her closet

like the perfect wool suit

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