I see the world in colors - but just for an hour on Wednesday

Black and white

    He sat with his legs crossed, just like an indian, as his grandmother would have said, and he stared at the floor, trying to absorb the most possible number of shades.
On the floor, dirty white wood, there were four great puddles, of a black darker than charcoal (he wondered if his soul could have been of the same color, maybe even dirtier, he whispered to himself) he then counted forty-seven stains around the puddles, which were of the same shade. As he started looking for the usual grey nickies, he got called from upstairs. "It's time" the voice said, and therefore he got up, shaking off the dust from his white clothes.

   He checked the clock. He was early. He waited by the door, studying the grey sky and its pale clouds, looking at the crows flying in circles. Then he got inside the old cafe.
As he was about to order his usual coffee, the place started getting its right colors. He blinked one, two, three times, and then his eyes went completely blank for five seconds straight. Once he opened them, the picture was almost right. He knew it was a matter of minutes until the last piece would make its entrance and complete the puzzle.
He smiled softly, feeling a peaceful heat growing in his stomach, then he took his cup and went to sit (leg crossed) at his spot. When he started sipping on his beverage - which had a warm brown circle with inside a black hole, and a funny blue marine cup to hold the hot liquid, the one thing missing got inside the local cafe.
He noticed, studying the colors of the place, that that peculiar Wednesday everyone seemed connected with green. An old lady was wearing brilliant emerald earrings, a fancy looking man had a green hat which made he look like an elf, and a young couple was reading a book with a viridescent cover. He couldn't help but loving that, because it went very well with the color of his last piece's eyes.
It was almost two months since he started going to the place, and in less than one year everything was going to be over. In the meanwhile, he decided that day was going to be the first time he would get to know something from his game, closer than the usual. The idea seemed to cross also the other's mind. A pair of legs covered in blue jeans appeared in front of his face. "Is this sit taken?" asked the guy, pointing at the chair next to him. Before answering, he slowly looked up at the guy and gave him a kind smile. "No, it's all yours, I'm Gerard by the way" he politely introduced himself.
"Michael, my pleasure". As they shook hands, sparks went by each others backs. Gerard checked the time. He had thirty minutes left, and then he would've had to wait another week.
Not that it was a problem. Gerard, just like any other of his same blood, knew well that patience was the key.

    Weeks went by. Gerard's routine was pretty much the same. The basement all day and Notre Dame when people had lunch time, the only time when the holy place was empty. On Wednesday he and Michael went to the cafe. He learned more about the guy, and started growing fond of him. The plan was just beginning and everything was fine, peaceful. The quiet before the storm.
Gerard adored his life in those moments. When he didn't have to worry about anything. He could relax and study the black and white world, he befriended with the gargoyles, looking for the Hunchback. At his house, he talked to his personal monster, through a dirty glass. The monster told him that, eventually, he would have ruined everything. Gerard smiled, without a hitch of happiness in his eyes. "You're right" he said.

   The first love of his life had died fifty years before. They had met when they were only kids, they had grown together in a sunny place, living in a bubble just like the Sugar Town Nancy singed about.
After they had completed their studies, she became a nurse and Gerard started working at an art gallery. They moved to the city, leaving all of their childhoods in the countryside village.
They were happy, young, fresh. She would come home late at night, and he always surprised her with a hot plate. He was locked in the painting room all day, fixing all the details of his paintings. The gallery was under the flat they rented, so it was just a matter of seconds for Gerard to get in the room whenever a client showed up. Everything was just right, only one thing seemed to spot the storm behind the corner; she used to complain about Gerard's cluttered atelier and his melancholic, grim art. She asked him why he painted only in black and white. He answered that when she wasn't with him the world was colorless. She smiled painful, holding back the tears.
Gerard didn't notice the signs of her disease until it was too late. She, only twenty-seven, died in the hospital room where, ironically, she healed most of her patients. The operation didn't go well and her heart stopped pulsing, and so did his.
That evening Gerard was going to propose. Instead of taking her to the altar, he took his own life.
And, as he did that, he never thought his miserable being would ever walk again. But little did he know, in death await surprises.