EGGSHELL WHITE
When he left, she had to look for herself all over again. Marya stood there, among the broken pieces of nothing and tried to put empty puzzle pieces together, trying to find color in white. She had become addicted to him. She believed he had been the only time she had felt anything, not realizing he had been the only time she felt nothing.
It was he who had taught her there are different shades of white. Different kinds of empty. There was the white of linen, which was clean and refreshed and smelled of antique times. Snow white was the color of hope laid out in frozen tears. White smoke - the color of wispy death.
And there was eggshell white; the color of loss.
YOU ARE READING
Hues of Love
Romancethe story of one girl's journey through the many frailties and fractals of love
