She defines things in colors. His eyes are blue; green; today they’re grey. Her hair is red; orange; strawberry blonde. She finds that the way the light reflects off of things and changes their color to be the most fascinating event she has ever experienced. She observes things mostly, looking away when people catch her staring because she doesn’t want them to think she is different in any way.
She likes the way colors melt together; it is what she likes most about coloring books and crayons, for she can make things in to the colors she thinks they should be. It is also why she likes fall best; the grass is green and the leaves are yellow and orange and the sky is the prettiest grey she has ever seen.
Color defines her life nearly as much as sound does; if not more. When she listens to music the notes dance across her brain in different colors; blue for melody, purple for harmony, red for the drums. Laughter is bright orange; sarcasm a deep green. Colors are different every day, which is one of her favorite things about color. His eyes are a different shade of blue; her hair more red on a Monday than it is on a Friday. Can colors really change like that?
Resistance is futile, she reminds herself. Embrace the colors. Paint your nails bright orange; decorate in deep reds and greens during the holidays. Let the colors surround you, for one day they will fade. One day his eyes will be a bland grey; her hair nearly white. She will see in shades of grey instead of Crayola colors, and if she doesn’t take advantage of the colors now she will regret it for the rest of her life.
