I asked him what his favorite color is, but he didn’t know. Looking into his hazel eyes, marbled with color contrasting elegantly against his tanned skin. That was when I decided to find his favorite color.
Lying on the soft grass I pointed up into the sky. The quiet pastel blue covering us like a blanket. But he only shook his head.
Hiking up a steep cliff I pointed to the oak tree, sitting proud and tall luscious green leaves spilling over the sides. But he only shook his head.
Sitting on a rock we stare up into the sunset, yellow merging with orange. But he only shook his head.
Standing up I’m ready to move on when I trip. Wincing as a sharp stone sliced a deep **** in my thigh. My blood spills out, crimson red dripping down my bare leg. His eyes mesmerized, almost glowing as he leaned in close his nose centimeters away from the river of blood flowing out of the wound. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath. Opening his glowing eyes he stared up at me, smiling. That’s when I thought it was red. Little did I know… it was blood.