Colors
Here's a short story I wrote at 2 am Thursday night. I usually only write poetry, so forgive me if it's too abstract-poetic.
Colors
She looked at each one. Up close. Far away.
She was attracted to the bright and flashy colors. She could picture the jealous stares they would provoke. They sure wouldn't hurt her status in certain social circles, either. She knew they would give her pleasure and appeal to her senses.
But yet she appreciated the dark and sinister hues. They were open to interpretation, like works of art. There was an intelligence in the mystery and an honesty in the criticism. She liked gifts best when they were still unwrapped.
But she smiled down at the pale shades. Their clarity was comforting, and there was an innocence in their simplicity. They would bend easily to her will, and she knew her selection would yield the approval of others.
And so the comparison went on. She stepped back and viewed the entire spectrum once more.
Finally, she walked away, the queen of indecision.
Colors
She looked at each one. Up close. Far away.
She was attracted to the bright and flashy colors. She could picture the jealous stares they would provoke. They sure wouldn't hurt her status in certain social circles, either. She knew they would give her pleasure and appeal to her senses.
But yet she appreciated the dark and sinister hues. They were open to interpretation, like works of art. There was an intelligence in the mystery and an honesty in the criticism. She liked gifts best when they were still unwrapped.
But she smiled down at the pale shades. Their clarity was comforting, and there was an innocence in their simplicity. They would bend easily to her will, and she knew her selection would yield the approval of others.
And so the comparison went on. She stepped back and viewed the entire spectrum once more.
Finally, she walked away, the queen of indecision.