Losing Colour

Tan had always been her least favourite colour. Was it even a colour? A non-shade; bland and uninspiring. Apparently the latest in the fashion world had heartily embraced this nothingness and had manufactured items in various hues which people bought up at an alarming speed for a ridiculous price.

She looked down at the items in her arms again. The tan clothing lay there lifeless and dull, she knew that wearing it would not help to energise the bleakness of it all, the long trousers and shirt would never normally have been of a style she would have chosen. Not necessarily important in this new environment. No-one she knew would see her here; she had made sure of that when she had finally gone.

It hadn’t ended how she had planned though. It should have been a quiet exit, a break for freedom in the most discreet way possible, a release from the invisible chains which had bound her to that place for so long. She had already decided to take nothing with her. Less was definitely more in this case. All of the careful planning and not having the burden of belongings should have made it easier, but she found leaving was not as straightforward as she had hoped.

Her eyes returned to the pile of clothing in front of her and she felt herself absorbing the bleak.  This was a relief from the bright burst of colour her life had been, a design for her future. One day she may feel ready to reinsert the colour but for now, the dreary suited her. A loud buzzer rang through the corridor and the large door swung open silently. Slowly, with her head high, her eyes forward, she stepped through. Tan spread endlessly ahead of her, embracing her, and she welcomed it.

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Michelle Hayes

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