Yellow

Make sure to read these first.

***

A month after the funeral

The first thing I noticed when I walked in her old room was the peeling yellow paint on the exposed brick. Then the small pen mark from the time a three-year-old Andrea drew on the wall and Mom couldn't wipe away the last bit. A trail of petite red stain creating a path from the bathroom to the bedroom entrance, the notches on the door frames.

It's amazing how much I've noticed since Mom told me what was going on with Andrea before...

How did I not see that something was wrong before?

Mom tells me not to blame myself; I wasn't here. But when I look back now, the times I was home, there were signs. Small, barely there signs.

A slight tremor of her smile, the tentative hugs, the darkness around the edges of her bright spirit. Even the walls of her bedroom were seemingly affected; the sunny yellow becoming duller every time I came to visit.

I sigh as I reach for the light switch and hesitate. The funeral was weeks ago, her room has been cleared, but this, this feels like a finality.

My hand falls at the same time as the first tear starts to fall, plunging what used to be the happiest room in complete darkness. And all I can think is...

Isn't it horrible what you finally see when you know the whole story?

Word Count: 236 words

***

Dear reader,

You may notice I changed from a third person point of view to a first person's (Gabriel's) point of view. When I was writing this, I realized it would be best written from his point of view to get a grasp of his inner thoughts.

Due to this change in point of view, I have gone back and edited Orange's point of view. Red may or may not get edited after the VWAs; I do not want to mess with this story too much since it was submitted.

I have also been working on alternate covers for the table of contents, Red, and Orange pictured below. I would like your input, especially if I am going to create a complete collection of everything.

Table of Contents Options

Red Options

Orange Options