Vase
Shihoko's hands whirled expertly around the spinning clay, her creation almost complete. It would be a beautiful work when it was done; a wonderful, modern flower vase. It would be elegant and simple, qualities she knew that Nana enjoyed.
And it would be filled with flowers when she would give it to her.
Beautiful, freshly cut flowers.
She smiled to herself as she continued to work, the beauty mark on her chin accenting it. Shihoko had a wonderful smile, she had been told, but no one had ever seen this variation of it.
Determined.
Desperate.
Should I add some paint when it's done? No, that would be gaudy. Leave it simple.
Shihoko knew what she was doing. She was an art teacher, an artist. She had been good enough for galleries, good enough for her young middle school students. Her decisions regarding her craft were always solid, and she knew it.
...but that's still never good enough.
She had grown up with Nana, now her fellow teacher. Nana taught science, and Shihoko knew how she thought.
Simple! Nothing unnecessary. Keep it clean…
It had been raining outside her home this weekend, the skies a dark gray. Shihoko didn't enjoy rain. It had caught her by surprise too many times before, a few sprinkles always ruining a plein air, the darkness it brought always dampening a perfect north light.
For pottery, however, Shihoko didn't require much illumination. All she needed to do was feel the clay as it spun, and that was it. She could see it with her fingers, trusted them more than her eyes.
Her black hair was frazzled, loose strands shooting out from her ponytail. She had been working since morning. Behind her, on a counter, we her failures for today.
This one, though, had merit.
Potential.
Possibility.
...not this time. She'll love this one.
Yes, she'll love it…
She'll fall in love with it.
And then, she'll finally understand...
Her electric kiln was ready for her creation. When it was done, the flowers would come.
Beautiful, lovely, freshly cut flowers.
Cut, sliced, eviscerated.
Hidden inside the vase.