"I think you're perfect, to some extent." I smiled at her, hoping to cheer her up as she was in a state of gloom and misery.

"Wrong word," she shook her head and pulled her knees up to her frame.

"What do you mean?" I sat down next to her, as she threw bread crumbs at some pigeons.

"Catachresis, the incorrect use of a word or a phrase. Perfection strays far away from me. If you were to put Perfection and I in a locked room, Perfection would crawl through the bricks to get away."

"Aw, come on. You don't really think that, do you? I mean, look at you. You're beautiful, inside and out."

"My organs aren't really beautiful, you know. And hate to break it to you, neither are yours."

"You're as amazing as a supernova is, that better?"

"A supernova? A supernova is an explosion that just briefly outshines an entire galaxy, just for a few moments before fading away into bitter blackness. I'm an explosion? You're right."

"And you say that I'm the pessimistic one here?"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I understand this mood of yours. Been there and done that."

"Thank you."