Colours


Shadman Tawsif


Days like this were his favourite. When the air was dry and sunny, when he could stay outside as long as he wished. He felt glad that he had decided to skip work and spend time with her. It’s not often you get to have a warm sunny day here.

This park-side cafe was his favourite place on earth. Not only because he met her there, but it was a freaking café inside a park. How amazing is that!

He was staring at two birds flying high up in the sky — so high that it wouldn’t be an understatement if anyone said they were flying to a void when she caught him off guard and asked, “What colour do you think I am?”

“Umm…what? What kind of a stupid question is that?” He let out a little groan.

“I don’t know. Like how I see a deeper shade of blue in you,” she said as she caught a glimpse of his puzzled face.

“You see blue in me, of all possible colours? Well, if I were a colour, I’d be black. I love black,” he said. The smile on his face agreed with him.

“Okay. So what colour do you think I am?” she asked as she looked into his eyes.

He looked away from her and started to ponder over the question. In front of his eyes, he saw an abundance of colours. 

Her eyes were brown. The kind of brown you would notice during sunset. You don’t always notice it at first, but when you do, you’ll see that ‘brown’ no longer describes it. They melt into golden rays creating an enigma of their own, much like her.

He could see the ambient colour of a crescent moon on a quiet river. The colours of a Phoenix in transition. The sobering colour of the fading sunset on the wet sand. He saw the colour of her breath every time she smiled. The colour of her skin when they touched. The colour of her eyes every time he looked into them. Suddenly, he found himself lost in a sea of colours. He had started to drown in it. This sea of chrome was overwhelming. Every colour biting away a piece of his heart. Suddenly, he was suffocating himself with his own thoughts.

Shaken back into consciousness with a slight nudge to his shoulder, she asked him again. “Well?” she exclaimed. Her eyes seemed to examine every inch of his face.

 

“I don’t know,” he said, “What’s the colour for stupid?”

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