Short Stories


The club radiated with a pulse as hard as a drummer beating against my bones. Never had a night felt as alive as this. The possibilities felt endless, I could even see myself with a girl. Pathetic isn’t it? I tried not to give it much thought. I can’t afford to lose this positive train. Keep on track. I brought myself to the real world, where light has character.

White lives in a world of fast moving and cash throwing. It’ll lie dirty to you through its glamour of immaculate suits and sterile teeth; selling you the things you may or may not want but definitely don’t need. Pink is a welcome romantic getaway for a couple hours, or a night, where your blind date tells you the things she thinks she likes and you give her prescripted responses courtesy of the worst playwrights in history. Purple swallows your feelings and your wallet and leaves you worse and wondering why you got out of bed every morning before now.

I want Red! I’ve read that marketers use it because it’s the color our brains are attracted to most. Red’s got everything the others got: beautiful deceptions, masked transactions, imaginary companionship, a willing shoulder to cry on. A girl steps out from the world of Red, calling me. She’s got green eyes, I think. I don’t know what the hell green’s supposed to mean. I’m fucking colorblind.

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