A Hue of Blu: the unforgettable love story

by Marie-France Léger

It was an awful, shitty feeling. Not throwing up, that was the relief. But that desire to be small, to impress, to feel wanted and beautiful. A full time job, I’d say. It consumed me.

An itch formed between my fingers, tingles trailing to my wrist and forearm. This man, smiling beside me, could break my heart any day. And I’d let him. That was the problem. Wherever his eyes would lead me, storm or shore, I’d follow.

For once, just once, I wanted something real. Someone to make me feel. Someone who understood what it felt like to be a jester, not a king. Someone who wore a coat of armour when underneath, they were as brittle as an apple seed.