They had met under a streetlight, that washed the pavement yellow. Buildings surrounded them, trapping them in a cage of steel, concrete, and glass.
Things could've been different had she taken a different route home. Had he gone to his usual area of town.
He was a street artist. She was on her way back from a walk to admire the night sky.
The cement walls were his canvas. From his stencils and paint came a human skeleton, a bullet in their head and a bleeding heart in its hand.
Curious of what went on in this man's mind she approached him.
Had she kept on walking, everything would be different.
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Sorry for the long hiatus and super short chapter, but it was mostly a bridge. Now that the characters have been introduced and how they met, things can begin to pick up.
YOU ARE READING
Color
General Fiction*cover art is mine don't steal (jk no one will steal that shit)* A world without color. Color that faded into inexistence.
