It’s raining.
As you walk, icy droplets hit your face. The water stings as it rolls down the contours of your concentrated expression. In this moment, you want home more than anything. Red is longing. You stop moving forward and extend your right arm. You feel Mother Nature. She pricks you with her sharpened thorns and your hand starts to drip. You’re bleeding now. Red is pain, physical and emotional. Your mind then forces you to go back to a time and place when you were truly hurt. Your rapid flow of thoughts intensifies as you hear a deep voice. It was your last kiss. You start to sweat. The recent saltiness on your forehead mixes with the freshness of the rain. A memory of your crimson lips pressed against his makes your heart pound quickly in your chest, as if an explosion could happen within seconds. Red is lust. On your first date, he gave you a rose. You feel your cheeks flush with slight embarrassment at the sheer recollection of this. Red is romance. No matter how impossible something may seem, you always go after what you want. Red is passion. It is the sensation of butterflies in your stomach, the feeling of caring about someone so much – and wanting to tell him. Red is love. You have fierce motivation and you never quit. So you keep walking. Once you reach the house, you hesitate somewhat. After giving yourself a few minutes to build up the much-needed courage and confidence, you twist the cumbersome doorknob and make your way inside. You smell smoke. The greeting from him consists of a peaceful hello, a glass of wine, and a crackling heat wave. Red is fire.
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December 2017
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