The sun was just about to go down as Neal made it home and the fading light made the room look warm and inviting. The day had been uneventful and disappointing, but now that he was away from the plain bureau walls, he could relax and focus his mind on something else.
He looked at the easel still set up over by the table with a half finished sketch he'd only half tried with. He found that he'd been drawing the same things over and over, no inspiration whatsoever. Tonight, he felt different. His creativity had returned for the moment, so he used it, picking up a pencil and flipping to a new blank sheet. He paused to consider it briefly, imagining what he wanted, then he began to draw.
The sun was now a brilliant red and it cast its light across the page. Neal liked the color and used it to guide his pencil, trying to capture the shade in the lines. Most people associated red with anger, but not him. He'd always thought of red as the sunset, the most peaceful time of the day where the world seemed to stop for just that short period of time.
Soon the red faded but Neal kept it in his mind as he sketched out the image of the old bridge he still hadn't forgotten about. He wanted to capture it in full this time, not just a sketch on a hotel wall, hidden by a painting. So he finished the outline and picked up a brush. It took him a while to mix the right colors, but once he had them, he was satisfied. Slowly, he filled the page with dark blue, rusty orange, and that brilliant shade of sunset red.
Hours must have passed and he worked well into the night, but he hardly noticed. Time was no longer important to him, only the picture he slowly brought to life. And when it was done and he stepped back to look at it, he nodded, smiling to himself.
Peace. That was red to him.