Long ago, the colors lived in strict neighborhoods. Red ruled the war banners. Blue held the oceans and the laws. Yellow claimed the sun and the crown. Green kept the fields and the money.
Pink wasn’t invited.
She went to live in between places inside of a shell, the edge of dawn, the first bloom on a mango tree in May. She learned to be quiet. For centuries, she only showed up when the other colors weren’t looking.
Then the year of Grey hit, and she finally stepped out.
That’s the turning point: rejection–>hiding–>returning when the world actually needed her
Too glam to give a damn. Think pink:)
