“I look up, the sky is gray. The color of her paintbrushes. She used to say colorful brushes take her creativity away. Trees. Brown. Her hair. Leaves. Green. Her strange lipstick. I drop my head low. Water is moving under my breath. It seems so calm. Blue. Blue as my mom’s eyes. I close my eyes. Black. And lean forward. Please, be white.”
―
Marie Lee,
Letters In The Dark