Theme: Colors
Food: Rice
He feels an ache in his throat and in his being as he utters girlish phrases. They're no longer forced and it pains him that now he doesn't need to act. He tries to mimic a man's lazy, heavy amble but in time his imitation shifts to light skips home.
"How are you?" His mother or some person asks. He smiles warmly, holding back his feelings. In the back of his mind he congratulates himself for that- he's heard many a woman complain that men hold everything in.
But he isn't an ordinary male who holds just his feelings in, he hides the truth, his words, his thoughts. He feels he contains everything that is really him to the brim. So much that his nightmares are like wishes in which a crowd of people surround his naked form as his wounds burst like a bag of rice and spill -not blood- color.
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A/N: A sort of play on the phrase: "showing your true colors".