Orange

Someone knocked at my door, the sound resonated through my living room like the steady beat of someone’s heart beat. My living room was to say the least, bare, void of much furniture. An old worn out fake leather couch stood against my chipped wall.

I hesitantly put down my cup on the coffee table and walked up to the door, the knocking was persistent, rapping with a steady beat. As if whoever was on the other side wanted to just bash the door down and attack me.

The door creaked when I turned the lock even slightly, the dim yellow light of my building’s corridor coloured my face before I could even take in the person standing in front of me.

The sight that met me blinded me with all the orange it threw at me. A woman with short stark black hair stood in front of me, clad in a bright orange suit with bright yellow flowers printed all over it, her sandals were the same shade of orange as her suit. The black hair held a delicate orange flower, which gave the impression that it would fall from her hair any second and an orange handbag hung of her arm. She shone brightly like a sun, it seemed she’d burn me with all the orange.

A curt nod was all I could muster in greeting. But she took it as a sign that she could invite herself inside. My flabbergasted state subtly shifted and made room for her to enter without a reason. It was not like she could even do anything to me, she was short, hardly reaching the middle of my chest.

I followed her inside my own house. The room seemed to dull in front of all her orange dazzle. I invited her to sit on the couch.

“Would you like to have some coffee?” It felt someone had shoved sand down my throat with how dry my voice sounded. She nodded her head, her big brown eyes shifting from one wall to another, red lips resting in a child like smile. She was gorgeous with her pink cheeks.

I shifted into my kitchen, picked a blue mug and poured the rich brown liquid into it. Carefully placing the piping hot liquid on a slightly chipped tray, I made my way back to her. I forwarded the mug to her and she eagerly latched onto the mug, drinking straight. I picked my own green mug and looked into the swirling now cold coffee, it was black and bottomless.

Much like my life.

She slurped the coffee leaving a smattering of her red lipstick onto my cup. We silently sipped onto our respective drinks, gulping the dark liquid when she spoke up,

“She is still beautiful.”

I looked up to where she was looking and an involuntary shudder ran down my back, the photo was the only colourful thing in the room beside the orange suit of the woman. It was her photo hanging just above the single chair dining table.

She indeed was beautiful, a red flow-y dress hugged her body in just the right places, her big bright smile and shimmery brown eyes incited me till this date. They felt like a warm hug on a cold, dreary day, the sun shone in her eyes, ever so welcoming to just wrap me into her frail, dainty arms. She looked as lively as ever, her laugh still rang in my ear. It was my favourite sound, her laughter, harmonious and calming like a mother’s lullaby, lulling her child to sleep. She was many things to me; my wife, my friend, my life partner, my secret sharer and even ass kicker at times and I’d sell everything to keep her with me always.

“She is, isn’t she?” My voice sounded lavender, calm and grounded. Her orange earrings jingled as she nodded in agreement with me, a smile on her face danced too.

Even through a photo she had the power to charm everyone to like her, the positivity that radiated from her was infectious, one look at her smile and you were a goner. Her blues, yellows and pinks filled the dark gloomy skies of my life and even through one photo she still managed to do that. She was my bright shining star and will forever remain that way.

My shining purple star.

“When did you get to meet my wife?”

She didn’t answer me immediately, sipping on her coffee, her dainty fingers supported multiple silver rings. They seemed to belong right in place with her bright personality, they made her seem like an entourage. The clink of her rings against my mug made me lull into a deep sleep, it seemed she hasn’t heard my question or choose not to answer me.

“Yesterday, near the park lake.”

The answer came to me as a surprise, a whiplash that woke me out of my stupor immediately. I cleared my throat once.

Have I heard the woman wrong?

“When?”

“Yesterday, I just told you.” She sipped on her coffee.

My astonished expression must have caused her some unease too because her eyebrows furrowed and she asked me why did I have an expression like that playing on my face. My answer didn’t stop short of running a chill down both our spines,

“She died three years ago.”