She smells like sunshine and roses and grass.
Her skin is slightly flushed and warm.
Ellen is jealous, and something else is added to her list of unending envies which grows longer with each day spent bedridden. Viola - sweet, loved, mobile Viola - was just outside. Logic notwithstanding (of course she'd had to have been outside first before entering the house), Ellen sees nothing but green whilst Viola is none the wiser, smiling and seated in the chair next to Ellen's bed, teddy bear in her hands.
Viola speaks. "It's really nice outside today." Her voice is awed. Amazed. Happy.
The green becomes darker.
"I wish you could come out there with me, though," she continues, playing with the bear. Viola looks up, and even her eyes seem changed with the touch of sunlight. "When's the last time you went outside anyway?"
Ellen answers quietly, "I don't remember." She stares at her hands loose in her lap, pale fingers limp atop the sheets covering her legs.
Viola sighs.
"I'm sorry."
Darker still the green grows, and with it enters some red, like a rose budding.
"We'll go outside together one day, won't we?" Ellen says.
She glances at Viola.
Surprise. It's clear on Viola's face, just like the skin that's actually heathly with exposure (unlike Ellen's sickly, disgusting white). But she recovers quickly, smiling again.
"Of course we will."
The rose blooms further.
Ellen looks back at her hands.
"I can't wait to play with you outside," Viola says wistfully. "You'll love it, Ellen. It's so nice and colorful out in the woods." Her smile turns then, becomes small and fond and pretty. "You could met Father, too. I know he'd love you.
"Love me, huh..." Ellen says back.
The rose is fully bloomed, vibrant red and glowing green.
"I think I'll love him as well."