a color usually gives off the idea of an emotion. when you see dark blues, you think of sadness, when you see red, you think of anger, when you see yellow, it's happy. this was why he disliked the sun. there was no chance that he would ever reflect the happiness of such a bright color, but he could be just like the dark blue of the night.
this girl was not dark blue, nor was she any shade of light.
she was pure black, absorbed deep in the despair that had consumed her soul.
"what's wrong?" he asked, sitting beside her. in front of them lay empty, glass bottles, and the smell of alcohol had wafted into the air.
she didn't look at him, instead stared at the glinting light that came from the moon's glare at the smooth, brown glass.
"what's right?" she answered, voice breaking among the small gust of wind that flowed past them.
