So he fell in love, as humans are prone to do. He fell in love with how she looked while she slept, stretched over the bed, mouth wide, snoring. He fell in love with her annoying, high-pitched laugh. He fell in love with the way she broke almost everything she touched.

One day, it started to rain while they were having a picnic in the park. He was eating the (terrible) eggsalad she made when the first few drops hit his nose. She stood up and started to twirl, her lace skirt opening around her like a flower before the rain weighed it down, molding it to the shape of her legs. He had forgotten the night when she told him she used to dream of being a dancer.

As she spun, arms outstretched, something happened. The heavy make-up she put on dripped away, leaving perfectly smooth skin. Her hair glittered with diamond-drops of rain. She smiled and laughed in a tinkling way that he had never heard before. Her movements were liquid. She was beautiful.

Scowling, the man dropped his plate. "You aren't the woman I thought you were," he said. Then he stormed out of the park, leaving the girl-turned-goddess behind.