colour

His last evening was a rather colourful one. Lying in bed, delusional from his illness and fever, he realized for the first time how green the door was. It was evening and the lamps outside had come on. The rich green paint on the open door reflected a burning orange lamp, one bright blur on each of the planks. The creases between the planks were drippin mercury, thin steel wires tapering on both ends.

The kerchief was gooey and stinking n so he decided to wash it. It was from a small shop at a small-town stop on a bus ride some time back; he’d liked the simple blue n the plain border. The sudden onset of the runnin nose had called it into service n it had deteriorated to this in a matter of days – just like his health, he thought.

This was its first wash and the moment it came in contact with water, it gave out a stream of blue – the dye, as if it’d bn dyin to get away all this while. It kept on n on bleeding blue, until it seemed it would be left bone white. N the color began to seep into everythin he looked at. The veins on the inside of his forearm seemed bluer, as did the tiled floor, going colder, his feet were speckled with blue n yet the inky blue kept flowing.

With the blue refusing to relent, he was contemplating a truce when suddenly he stood up and haiittschhhhh !!!, he sneezed, shooting a glob of snot at the floor. Before he could turn to the sink to wash, he felt liquid collect at the tip of his nose and looked down to see a big red drop fall. The floor was wet n the drop grew once it fell. Soon he was bleeding all over the place. The red n the blue mixing together.

That’s where they found him, on the tiled floor of his bathroom.

Rather pale.