The sweater is soft and warm and brown, but that is not what fascinates the girl wearing it. It’s not the cashmere, a hug in shirt form. It’s not the perfect length of the sleeves, or the way the seams line up with her shoulders. It’s the tiny, shark-tooth shaped gap on the left cuff. The hole amazed her fingers; they curled around it and fiddled, running it under her nails. The imperfection was wondrous to her. The flaw is always the most interesting part.