Greg flicked a lintball off the arm of his sweater and watched it follow a perfect arc into his coffee cup where it floated, serenely mocking him. “Piece of shit,” he said.
Helen quietly pulled his cup towards her and pushed her own, lint-free cup in front of him. She touched the lint ball and it stuck to the tip of her finger. She peered at it and said, “You know, this may be the perfect lint-ball!”
“Sorry to get it wet,” Greg said, taking a sip from his new cup. “You must be getting close to having a complete collection.”
“You mean, for the gallery showing?” Helen asked. “I think this one will do it. It’s exactly what I needed! Once it dries, of course.”