Fiction · Level 3 · 179 words
The Bowls She Breaks
Original passage © Studio AM, written for Fluency.
Ilse makes bowls for a living, and she breaks about a third of them herself. Customers find this strange. The bowls she destroys look perfectly good to them: even in shape, smoothly glazed, strong enough to hold soup for a decade. She breaks them anyway, on the stone step behind the workshop, without ceremony.
Her reason is not perfectionism, though everyone assumes it is. A bowl leaves her hands and lasts fifty years. In that time it will be used by someone she will never meet, in a kitchen she cannot imagine. She cannot ask those people what they wanted. So the only standard available to her is her own, and she has learned that a standard she bends once stops working.
There is one exception, on a shelf above the kiln. It is a bowl with a crooked rim, made the week her father died. It is the worst thing she has produced since she was a student. She has been offered money for it twice, and both times she has said that it is not for sale.
Source: Written for Fluency. Original passage © Studio AM, written for Fluency.