Everywhere she looked she saw grey. Grey streets filled with grey houses and grey pavements and grey skies. She couldn't, for the life of her, fathom why the architect would want to create a cityscape so dull- perhaps to erase the colour which the land previously housed.
Onwards she strode, alternating between holding her head high and burrowing it into the depths of her ebony overcoat- an absence of colour. Alone she stumbled, her surroundings mocking her lone figure with contempt. But they soon ceased to exist as she buried herself into the mine of her mind; the thoughts so irrelevant and abstract that, through the maze they led her, she remained horribly lost. Normal people would have been contemplating dinner or the prospect of changing seasons but, not she; she thought about the lone elephant she had painted last year, and the colours of the never-present rainbow, reciting the 'Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain' memory trigger, and noticing the cirrus clouds evolving into stratus and then nimbo-stratus, and the elderly woman who had ignored her quite profusely when she offered a smile, and how having an eyelash in an eye felt, and a multitude of other thoughts which she examined silently until a dim, throbbing motion spread about her brain.
So wayward was she in her own mind that she didn't notice the cyclist who almost rode straight into her but, managed to manoeuvre the metal contraption at the last second to avoid an awful collision. Her mind, so full of things, of the past, of rampant dreams, forgot to remind her to mind her way and, as she stepped forward the impact of the car sent her flying. At that moment, her airborne mind much like her airborne body could only focus on the car and its body. Its dull grey body that sent her soaring through the grey sky, past innumerable grey houses until she smacked the grey pavement with great force. And as she lay there, unmoving and quite possibly dead, a trickle of deep crimson liquid stained the previously grey pavement, painting colour in its path.
The absence of colour lay, bleeding her colour onto that grey day.
