Our world is different from yours.
In our world, there are colors.
But we don't see them. It's just black and white.
How do we know there are colors? Simple.
Only when we meet our soulmate, the person we are destined to be with, do they appear. And when they die, everything is black and white again. There's countless stories of people doing everyday things, grocery shopping, walking the dog, admiring the flowers, when the colors disappear. The vibrant vegetables suddenly gray. The dog's chestnut coat bland and dull. That blood red rose, colorless. It's horrific to think about.
I've accepted the fact that I'll probably never see color. Honestly, what's the chance I'll meet them? There's seven billion people on this earth. He may already be dead, or on the other side of the planet. It's useless. And I don't mind. Colors probably aren't even that great.
My name's Amber Stanerson. I'm twenty three. I've got a boring, dead end job at a coffee shop as a waitress on N Avenue.
Today, a rather cute young man walked in, looking about my age. He sits down and I go to serve him, but Darlene(a tip stealing bitch) gets to him first. With a hair flip and a nauseating "seductive" smirk, she asks him for his order.
I stalk back to the kitchens, unusually angry. It's not like he was THAT cute, besides, I'd already made up my paycheck gap in tips today. I just really wanted to meet him, speak to him.
I busied myself with other customers, occasionally glancing over. Darlene was flirting with him, and he seemed to be getting fed up with her. Who knows, this may be her sixth complaint in the making. Soon he finished his double-mocha latte and got up to leave.
I was serving the closest table to the door when he passed by. I looked up at him, just to see him one more time. We locked eyes, and I saw it.
Blue. His eyes were blue.
The most vibrant blue I could ever imagine.
He nodded at me and left.
I quickly excused myself and followed, practically running out the door.
He was crossing the street, back to me.
I couldn't let him leave. Not now.
"Wait!" I shouted, and he turned. His eyes widened as he saw me. Surely he saw the spreading colors that creeped to the edge of my vision, too? He had too.
A horn pierced the air.
In a flash of metal and windows, he was thrown forwards. I heard the crunch, people screamed.
No. No, this can't be happening. Just when everything was so beautiful. So vibrant.
I ran to where he had been thrown. His breath rasped, his body shattered. I carefully cradled his head, tears streaming down my face.
Our eyes locked. He smiled.
Peopled gathered close, ambulance sirens blared in the distance.
His eyes dim.
Vibrant blue eyes, blood of deepest crimson.
The last colors to fade from my vision.
* * *
"This just in, Special News Report, local waitress found dead in apartment in a pool of her own blood, her wrists were slashed to the bone. Suicide is suspected. The body has been identified as an Amber Stanerson."
