What’s wrong with this picture

You scan the frame looking for the flaw she's daring you to find. Nothing obvious — just her, composed and unhurried, wearing that particular stillness that makes your eyes move slower than they should.

The longer you look, the less the question matters. Your attention keeps snagging on the curve of her shoulder, the way fabric sits against skin, the small details that accumulate into something difficult to look away from.

Maybe that's the answer. Maybe you're the thing that's wrong — standing here, breath slightly held, already knowing you're going to look again.