the paint store pt. 9

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I had refused to escape to the paint store, the thought suddenly burdensome. Instead, I remained at the bay window, peering through the curtains into a complex world. Supposedly one full of wonder, joy, opportunity, but all that glared back at me was remorse, suppression, detachment.

    Maybe it wasn't just the world that appeared this way, in my own way I had become the world. I had locked away the secrets I was not ready to face, that I am still unable to comprehend. The doors had been locked, the colors dissipating.

    No matter what I tried, the white crept back ever so slowly, chasing after what I was running from. It mocked me as it drew near, knocking paint onto the floor and soaking it up in one breath.

    The air was thin, it became hard to breathe.

    If the stars came to greet me as I closed my eyes, then what would come before? Would I be aware of its presence, welcome it?

    Or would it simply be nothing at all, just emptiness?

    That's when I fell for the color grey.

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