“Red is the color of anger,” she said. “orange, the hues of the lows in you.”
Since when had she become the expert of my colors? Red is the blood dancing through me and orange is my sunset. Blue is my melancholy and violet my severance of free. My color has its own definition, and my rainbows don’t arch. They have edges, sharp and wordless, like the green of trees when I am nature bathing.