You are my favourite colour

He was yellow. Like the sun.

'Till he came along she never liked that particularcolour.

She liked dark colours

Her favourite colour was burgundy, her favourite songswere a variation of blues and purples.

Yellow was plain and had no depth. At least in herimagination.

Yet here she was. And there he was. And she adored him.

He didn't look yellow at all though.

If anything he looked like an old flannel.

Red and white and plaid.

She, herself, felt like a minty colour.

They complimented each other eventhough the coloursdidn't fit at all.

But that's what made them perfect together.

Looking at him was dangerous. He was dangerous.

It was like starring directly into the sun. Or was helike a car crash?

She knew she shouldn't look but she couldn't turn away.

He made her world a little brighter and a little morecolourful.

And when he left, he took all the colours with him.

Her world was grey.

Her favourite songs didn't have that beautiful colourspectrum she was used to when listening to them.

The sky was blue, the grass was green and the skyscraperwere grey.

She percieved the world like anybody else would.

When he came back, it was like a sunrise. A brighthorizon. Like the beginning of the Lion King.

And at night when they would lie in bed she'd look up athim and she'd feel serene and she'd feel save and she'd feel nothingbut love.

And he would look down at her with that smirk of his,that would've made her weak in the knees if she wasn't already lyingin bed.

Next to him.

And he'd ask her what she was looking at.

And „You are my favourite colour", she'd say.

And he'd let out a sound. Not quite a chuckle, not quitea laugh. But nonetheless the most beautiful sound she'd ever hear.

And at night they would lie in bed.

And she'd feel serene and save and yellow.