“Instead, my notebook remains white and unmarred, yet my attention remains affixed on the wall in front of me. Nearly two weeks ago, it seemed as if it were the perfect color. Especially with Tori standing in front of it. But now, I see that I was distracted by her. Now, it’s evident that it is not the right fucking color. I run a frustrated hand through my hair and clench my eyes closed in a desperate manner to recall the exact shade. My memory of her fades with each passing day and the color i...n my head dims. Anger swims through my veins like hungry sharks in the shallow end of the ocean. I’m desperate to remember the color that somehow haunts my dreams yet alludes my consciousness. Standing abruptly, I then stalk over to my bookcase and haul out the paint swatch book. With my pen, I cross out the seventeenth color and peruse the shades until I’m pretty sure which one will be the eighteenth coat. I circle it and toss it back on the shelf. I’m tempted to call Tori and invite her for another painting session.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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