"You need to be careful Maria, boys will get ideas," said her mother with a twist of disapproval to her lips. Maria didn't have a clue what she meant until the butcher's boy pulled her behind the shop and kissesd her senseless.
"Boys will get ideas, Maria," It was her mother's favourite thing to say. "And you shouldn't be indulging those ideas until you're good and married."
"Hmm," Maria agreed distantly, her eyes fixed out the window in the direction she knew central lay.
Come see the world, the recruiting posters promised, and serve your country.
Her eyes travelled over her manure covered boots resting on the hay below her feet. The farm uniform of stained coveralls, straw, and cow shit scratched at her skin and was too tight in some places. Her head fell to the flank of the cow she was milking. She was starting to think a set of blues would sit more firmly on her shoulders.
When the butcher's boy took her hand, tugging her away from the cows and down into the hay, she smiled distantly in response.
("Ideas!" her mother's voice shrilled in her head.)
After, lying in the hay, the butcher's boy smiled hesitantly and slid a ring onto her finger. Her eyes fixated on the glowing stone where she could see the white of her wedding, red of the butcher's shop, yellow of her kitchen and brown cow shit.
The next day she bought a train ticket to Central.
Yes, she thought, blue is more my color.