Red. What do you see red as? The color of love? I guess that would hold true, but doesn’t it transcend something so approachable? Affection, comfort, a sense of happiness, of peace that dissolves into your soul, death!
Red were the waters whenpain and sorrow**traversed the lands, and guilt was all that was left stranded on a pavement that reeked of inhumanity. Red became the sky when reasons lost faith, and hope would vanish in the vanity of war.
Red, it defines more than it could ever show, like an emotion.
The sound of running water had enveloped me, but something of an impulse pulled me out. “Hey!” A voice echoed through the hall, approaching, and yet diminishing with each passing moment. “Hey!” Yet again, but more intense, like calling for attention.
My eyes followed the voice, only to find him standing behind me, something small, crippled flashing from his hand.
“Is this blood?” Stretching out the sides, he displayed through the texture on the torn newspaper right in front of my eyes.
Red. Like a vibrant art on a stained smirk.
“That’s sauce.” I stole it from his hand, so as to examine it better. I let the red glide between my fingers, somewhat dry and yet almost like water. Almost.
“Really?” His tone had disbelief, so was mine, but the moment pleaded for the dismissal of suspicion.
“Yeah sure, see there’s the bottle.” I remembered the general direction the bottle should be inside the kitchen. The sound of water had changed by then, a bit more smoother.
“Oh! I thought someone was hurt!” He came straight towards the glass I was filling and took it with him back to the room. With him gone, I disposed off of the stain that had been misplaced.
Red. Like a lie well spoken.
I realized that day, how thick headed he was. But that made him innocent, or somehow it made me cunning.
My eyes went past the three pair of shoes that lay outside the room. “Welcome back.” Two pair of eyes glared, confusion and questions in it. For one, I didn’t need an answer, just a reflection of his confused self. For the other, I was a blank slate. “Did you bring something to eat?”
“Who are you fooling?” I had things to say, questions to ask. College was still too early! But I was a friend to both. “You already ate samosa!” I looked the other in her eyes, somewhat drowsed, somewhat scared. Funny how a small detour with my friend changed the playing field. “I saw the paper bag.” I did, but it was still a lie, a well shaped lie.
“Yeah, and sauce too!” My friend backed me up, and I guess that was enough to cover the stain.
Red. Like the whisper of life. Like a stain of love. Like the raid of truth.