He turned and walked off. I wasn’t sure I could move. Then, just before he got into his truck, I said, “Cromwell?” He looked up. I could feel my cheeks burning before I even spoke. “What color is my voice?” Cromwell stared at me, eyes full of some kind of light I couldn’t decipher. That small, beautiful smile pulled on his lips again, and he said, “Violet blue.” I tried to breathe. I really did. I tried to move. Violet blue. Cromwell got in his truck and pulled away. A memory from last week came to my mind. “Cromwell?” I asked, and he turned my way. “What’s your favorite? Your favorite color
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