The Smell Of Spray Paint

Ten.

To say that Judas' house was close would have been an understatement. As soon as I agreed to spend the night there he whirled around, cold water from his umbrella flicking me in the face and walked off. It took me a second to realise that I was meant to follow.

It was less than twenty freaking steps to the lobby of his apartment block and no more than ten after that to get into the elevator after he nodded at the doorman in greetings.

There was also no question about it, this guy was rich. I felt kinda out of place, following him with my head down, dripping wet and all hunched over. Judas walked briskly with long strides and some pretty impeccable posture in front of me but didn't say anything, not that I was really in the mood for chatting, every time Gilbert crossed my mind I felt really bad and like I wanted to run away and hide forever.

The floors were made of marble and the elevator was clean and polished with brass buttons and classy music playing, it was like a hotel. We arrived at the top floor and he gestured for me to get out so I did. He took the lead again and we made it to the room at the end of the hall, Judas produced a key and unlocked the door for us, opening it for me.

The first thing I noticed was how much I seemed to sink into the thick violet carpet, it had to be at least an inch deep, there were also expensive looking paintings everywhere on the lilac walls and fish tanks. In my opinion, fish tanks were a symbol of wealth.

But something seemed off, I didn't know what but there sure was something up that I wasn't getting. My eyes scanned the place looking for clues as to what was wrong but before I could figure anything out, Judas started to speak again,

"I trust the place is to your liking?"

"Yes! Of course." I thought that was a bit of a stupid question, even if I hated the place, I wasn't exactly gonna start complaining...

"I'm glad." He said softly, as if my opinion mattered a lot to him... Maybe this guy was okay.

"But," I spoke up, I tried to approach this light heartedly, "You seriously like the colour purple."

My statement was a valid one, the walls were purple, the carpet was purple, the curtains, the doors, much of the furniture: all purple. They were in different shades though, it was even kinda impressive how Judas had managed to make it so no two things were the exactly the same colour purple, it was like he had tried to convince himself that his love affair was not only with the one colour, but I wasn't fooled.

He laughed, I was relived he didn't take it as a criticism but his laugh seemed empty and hollow, it wasn't really a joyous laugh, "That's observant of you," Listening to his voice you would have never guess that he was laughing just a moment ago, "It is true, purple is a colour I admire- but not for the aesthetics, for the history!" He almost sounded passionate, but didn't quite get there.

"It has a history?" I wanted to sit down but I didn't wanna soak the indigo couch.

"Of course, everything does. You have a history, I have a history, the pope has a history." He smiled but let it drop after two seconds, "You look like a smart boy; you should know these things."

"I do!" I protested.

"Purple," He began, "Is a colour that symbolises power. In the era of the Romans this colour was only allowed to be worn by royalty."

I wasn't certain how to respond to that, "Oh..." Is what I decided on.

"So naturally I like the colour because of what it represents- rulers and the most important people."

I nodded, understanding but decided to change the subject, there was just something about Judas's demeanour that made me uncomfortable, "Can I have a shower?" I decided I'd have a shower and then take my leave, coming here was a mistake.