Colors Of Me: A Rainbow Of Drabbles

Orange

She loved orange so much. It was her colour. It was excitement. It was everething she treasured. It was everything she found joy in. She often thought it conveyed her perfectly. It was simply just so vibrant. It was so full of energy. When she was wearing orange the adrenaline rush came easier. When she wore orange the world seemed exciting. The shade never really mattered to her. She was not an artist. She was an adventurer, a sportsman, a friend. She was someone who felt at their best when they got high on pure energy running in their veins. She was the arc of a gymnast jump, the whisper of a teenage girl's tales in an other's ear. She was the spirit possessing Eve to reach for the apple, she was the taste of alcohol on someone's toungue for the first time, she was the lure of the forbidden. She lived in all encompassing laughs, in stolen kisses, in tiny victories. She lived in the curve of an imp's grin, in the flicker of fireworks against the night skies, and in the rush of a fast river. She was brash, she was bright, she was blunt. She was something otherworldly. And when they were with her the world was never as bleak. When they were with her, for a short time, the world seemed whole.