“What’s my favorite color?” “Easy. Blue.” “What kind of blue?” “Bedroom blue!” I point at the wall. “The walls. Your shirt. My dress. Pale Tiffany blue.” He tugs me to sit, then goes to the end of the bed. He opens his wardrobe door, and I see all of the shirts hanging in color sequence. “Josh, you dork.” I start to laugh and point, but he grabs my ankles and drags me to the end of the bed. There’s a full-length mirror, and I see myself, at long last sitting on the bed in his robin’s-egg bedroom. His walls are the blue of my eyes. I’ve been a bit slow. “But that’s the prettiest blue in the
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