Mirror

"It's pretty," I told her, as we stopped before statues in the halls of the Louvre.
She was silent as she stared at the Venus de Milo, but then answered, "Yeah. It's amazing."
"Do you think people pity her? Y'know, cause the arms?"
"Yeah, probably. Don't you?"
"No, not anymore. They are just arms."
She paused, silent. "I do."
How? I wanted to ask, but even I could answer for myself. She's Emma, and Emma is the most unselfish person I know.