“What’s your favorite color?” He whispered behind me, his fingers gently combing through my hair.
“Green.”
“What’s green like?”
My heart tightened in my chest. He would never truly know what green is. It would always only be a figment of his imagination, put together by what others said. He would never know what the waves looked like as they crashed against the shore. Or be able to see the beauty of a setting sun.
“Green is…green is nature. Green is jealousy and greed. Green is money and trees and fresh cut grass. Green is….home.”
I looked into his eyes, his emerald irises staring off, seeing nothing.
“To me, green is love.”
