The dress stretched across the table, a coffee-sized stain embossing into the blue and white print. The smear collided with the colours, throwing every sense of pretty out of the window.
Although it was already ruined, she thrashed at the cloth that resembled only half of a stage-gown, ripping and tearing it, mutating and pulling at the pieces so that it eventually tumbled to the floor as one long wrap.
In another heartbeat, she repaired it, taking the cloth to her waist and pinning it twice. There: she was no beauty anymore, but the light of a teapot companion.