a splash of color
-another moment gone-
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She asked you what color happened to be the most significant color to cross your vision. It seemed so childish to you at the moment, when she assigned it. But as she explained the requirements to your essay, thoughts ran at full-flow speed.
You like many colors—colors happy and bright like yellow or colors that didn't appeal to people, like brown. But no doubt in your mind knew that you loved the color red.—Red because it symbolized so much in your short thirteen years of life.
You glanced around the room, seeing everything clearer than usual for some strange unfathomable reason. You watched outside as the snow dripped from the roof, drip by drop. You noticed the various splatter of colors painted against the classroom wall.
"Are you listening?" Your teacher asked, an annoyed look crossing her young face.
You shook your head 'no' and picked up your purple ink pen.
"Can I borrow a pen?" He asked you, a soft but timid smile dancing across his face.
You nodded, unable to speak and searched through your pencil case for a few seconds.
"—I can borrow a pen from someone else if you wan—"
"—Nope, that won't be necessary," you say, a grin spreading across your face in satisfaction as he takes the pen you hand to him. He positions his hand to begin to write, and you smile in utter satisfaction.
His pen had your name inscribed into it. Now he'd always have a piece of you.
You stared blankly ahead of you now, your smile vanishing. There were so many colors you favored.
Red you repeat in your head, almost as if it was a mantra; which it is not.
"Red…" you muttered to yourself, a look of confusion washing over his face. You smile slightly and look away. Red, you realize, is your favorite color—for so many reasons that are sometimes…just not explanatory.
Red because the blush that would splatter across your face blotchily as he'd hug you and kiss your cheek. So many little things that just seem stupid to the public's eye, but meant too much for you to be able to explain to just anyone.
Red because of the red sweatshirt he wore around you that he'd let you wear. The aroma filling your nostrils and causing your not-usually rouge cheeks to splash upon your cheeks.
Red because he loved the color red; you weren't sure of his own reasons. The way it went against his skin and triggered his own blushes was such a gift.
Red, it was such a funny word. The r to the e to the d. The way they were completely different letters but managed to all blend together like it was meant to actually fit together. Like it was meant to be—if only for a few weeks.
Red because that's the color of your eyes, bloodshot and blotchy. Red because the blood rushed to your head causing your head to pound painfully as you tried to stop the choking racking sobs.
Red because he taught you so much in so little time.
Red because it's a color that reflects joy, and splashes with a bittersweet mix of being naïve. Red, because it's a color and that's one thing that won't ever change, shift, or disappear. Unlike him.
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Review.
-another moment gone-