A couch and 50 pages

Colour

On a side walk was an aparatus of steel, wood and cloth.

Of steel were the screws that kept it all together.

Of wood was the frame, five feet by two.

Of cloth was the cherry on top, the red fabric that covered the whole thing.

It wasn't a dark red, in the way that it was too pale to be dark. It wasn't a pale red either though, it was too dark for that.

It was in the category in between dark and pale. It was simply red.

In truth, it had once been a dark red, but over the years, it had been used and washed and stained into what it was now.

Although not uniform, the red was what it was. 

It wasn't a cherry red, nor was it a pinkish-red. it wasn't a red you'd struggle to differentiate with orange nor a red that leaned into the blues. It was simply red.

It was the kind of red you'd obtain if you tried to make an average out of all the lipsticks in the world.

The kind of red you find in every box of crayolas.

The kind of red that isn't quite right for drawing lips, or blood, or anything, really. 

It was the kind of red you used if you didn't have anything else to use, in much of the same way a child would draw skin with an orange pencil because they didn't have beige ones.

It was simply red.