Her Favourite Colour was Blue

He first met her at a funeral. If you had asked him why he was there he wouldn’t have been able to give you an answer. But he could never forget her stare.

Of course, she was stunning. Long blonde tresses fell down her back like a curtain of sunlight. He watched as she tucked a strand behind her ear. Her hands were small. They looked warm. Were they warm? He wanted to know. Wanted to grab them and squeeze them with his own. Her cheeks looked smooth as a babe’s and her red, heart-shaped lips as soft as silk. But it was her eyes that garnered her attention.

Blue, blue, blue (how did she know it was his favourite colour?). Wide and magnetic, they mirrored her every thought and feeling. He could see into her soul (they were even more beautiful when rimmed with red).

He had to speak with her. How could he let such a beautiful creature escape his grasp?

Her name was Abigail. She was the daughter of a successful lawyer who had begun to make a name for himself (she had told him this much later in the evening). Her mother was a surgeon (he had thought that was quite strange. A woman as a surgeon?). She was from the other side of town.

They spoke for a while at the wake. Her favourite colour was blue too! She loved to read and go on long walks on the beach just like him.

His heart swelled with joy when she agreed to go home with him.

But now…

His heart felt heavy and dull.

It had been years since then.

She stormed through the door, screeching. Her arms flailing in the air.

“I can’t do this anymore!” She screamed at him, “You told me we would be happy! That I would be happy!”

“And you will be, just give me a bit more-”

“Time? It has been months, months! And you still haven’t found a job!”

She threw a yellow note on the kitchen table. An eviction notice. “They are forcing us out! What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? Certainly not to my father, he won’t even look at me after I ran off with you!”

Abigail went quiet and sighed, “I should never have ran away with you.”

SMACK!

Her cheek was red.

He felt his blood run cold.

What had he done? What had he done? What had he done? What had he done? What had he done? What. Had. He. Done?

“I’m sorry. Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” he repeated to her, taking a step back.

She stared at him in disbelief. Not uttering a word. Her blue eyes were wide; fear, regret, judgement, betrayal.

Abigail had run to their room. He followed hours later after a couple of drinks. He had slipped under the covers, trying not to wake her up.

He tried to sleep. Tried being the key word here as no matter how much he would toss and turn, his eyes would stay open and his heart would race.

Was Abigail going to leave him? Please no. Anything but that. She was his everything. The reason he smiled, laughed, felt human. She calmed him when he was stressed, held him when he cried, laughed at every bad joke and listened to every single insecurity he had.

He wanted to scream, cry, shake her awake and beg her, “Please don’t go. I need you. Life isn’t worth living if you are not in it. I swear. if you go. I will kill myself.”

He watched her as she slept peacefully at his side. She was so quiet. So… innocent. He reached out and stroked her cheek.

Long blonde tresses like a curtain of sunlight. Small, warm hands. Smooth cheeks and soft, red, heart-shaped lips. Eyes blue, their favourite colour, rimmed with red.

His fingers traced her every feature.

Abigail really was stunning.

Her neck… slender and long…

His hand stopped.

He squeezed.

“Please… don’t leave me.” He whispered to her.

He thought of their time together.

He didn’t notice her struggle. He didn’t notice how her eyes bugged out of her head. Her gasps for breath. How she clawed at his hand. grasped at his fingers.

He did notice how she fell limp. That she was calm. Peaceful. Quiet.

“I love you.”

Her face was blue. Just like her eyes. His favourite colour.

But he knew she wouldn’t mind.

Because blue was her favourite colour too.