Perfection

The motorcyclist rode into the distant setting sun.

What a perfect sunset. He thought.

When the sun rose again that morning, he thought, what a perfect sunrise.

He stopped at a fuel station and bought lunch.

"What a perfect burger." He said.

"I guess you don't have high standards," The chef said and the man peered at him with a shadow over his eyes.

"Why don't you shut up and do your job."

"What a perfect comeback." The chef replied, before heading back to work.

The cyclist looked back at him, then his burger, and swallowed.

"Dammit. It was... perfection."