Marvin stares at his Beauty Blue with a puzzled expression on his face. Flawed? he wonders. She is far from flawed-she is perfection. Her appearance is godly and blemish free, an angel from above who's beauty knows no earthly comparison. She is strong, graceful, and the tear in her eye has no place on such a delicate canvas. Still he cannot help but feel confused at what his heart and soul has said. "I will take you wherever you desire, my beauty. To me, you are no damaged doll, no broken figure or cracked work of art. In my eyes you are still the same graceful, elegant, and delicate woman I've seen bloom and grow. And like the beautiful rose, my beauty, you will be said to have your thorns, to have your vices and blemishes. But I believe that you are flawless, that you have no thorns and that your petals will forever be in bloom, never fading to any-"
"Stop." The words in the man's mouth fade away into nothingness as his beauty speaks, interrupting his trail of thought. The single tear on her face has become many tears, sliding down her delicate feature. A sick feeling tugs at him from within, urging him to apologize to his beauty for the harmful words he might have spoken to cause her sadness. Before he gets a chance to, she speaks. "Beauty never falls," she says quietly. "You speak some strongly of me, your passionate words to a stranger are touching and sound as if they are coming from the mouth of a close friend. Yet you know not of the darkness that hides within me, the deadly sin that makes everything I am and all I've done utterly worthless. It is a malevolent force that is eating away at me from the inside, kind stranger and I can never be truly beautiful while it lingers within."
Marvin shakes his head, panicked at the fear present on his beauty's face. "Don't say such things! Surely the situation isn't as dire as you say?" The blank look on her face tells him otherwise, causing him to shake his head in disbelief. “What is it that troubles you so, my beauty? What causes you to question your divine appearance? Don’t you know that beauty never falls?”
Although she doesn't know this strange man, she is both touched and ashamed of the certainty of his powerful words and the visible signs of distraught at her current state. His sympathy extends beyond that of a dear friend, even more so because of the fact that he is not a friend but a stranger. She gets a good look at the man who speaks to her as an old lover as he murmurs something inaudible. The wrinkles on his face tell her that he is old, much older than she is. The reddish-brown hue strike sequences in her mind, reminding the broken and imperfect dancer of two people she has met in her life, when she was an innocent and graceful being.
Her mind drifts to events that transpired many years ago, when she performed a routine for 'The Nutcracker' performance on stage. She sees herself twirling like figure skater, her long, silky hair fluttering about as she spins. The audience is captivated and star struck by her performance. As she nears the end of her dance, the sweat forming on her brow, she spots a little girl with a pale and almost sickly appearance awe-struck by her, more so than the others around her. Beauty moves nimbly, with the care and precision of a sculptor in order to appear more refined to this young girl, to give her the idea that she is indeed a living work of Michelangelo. The two girls, so very different from one another, share a moment of similarity, both smiling at one another when she strikes her final pose.
She remembers the same girl coming up to her after the performance, wonder in her eyes as she holds up a blank sheet of paper. "Will you sign this ma'am?" She can't help but smile at the little girl wearing a hat the almost covers her face, penning her exquisite signature onto the page. Only after did she realize that the girl had been afflicted with a deadly disease, one that had taken the youth's life not two days after they had met.
The memory shifts once more, to the infamous meeting with a young man with long, but tidy hair, and eyes like the stranger that waited for her return from memory lane. He smiles at her, an honest to goodness smile that strikes fear into her heart. Then, with the same smile on his face, he delivers his killing blow, his coup de grace.
"I'm terribly sorry Madame, but the disease has progressed much faster than we anticipated and...chemotherapy may be the only option left to hold it at bay," he takes her hand, the smile on his face disappearing. "I know it's bad now, but it will be worth it in the end."
Suddenly she's back in her apartment, the man staring off to the side, mouthing the words, "Beauty never falls." She touches his face with her hand. Immediately his attention is back onto her, a look of concern on his face and his mouth shut.
He is a complete stranger she thinks. He is as old as Teresa without any sort of history with me. Yet...I feel like this man deserves to know why, to know why I am forever flawed, and no longer beautiful.