• FICTION

    There is no Color

    She was one of those girls he had the privilege of saying, “Oh that is my childhood friend.” Except he would only brag to his friends and never to himself. Because one time, when he was 10 and she was 7, she stepped out in a bubbly yellow-themed dress with different floral patterns. She looked amazing, so much that, many years down the line, he still remembers her presence overpouring in the room immediately she entered the Sunday school class. Because he was a good boy, and he hardly ate his offering, alright, he ate a little, but always kept some for the big man up there, his angels were…