She wore purple and orange and pink when she came to say goodbye.
"Sunset colors," he thought, and he felt his heart sink to the bottom
of his shoe, so that it would always stay there, wearing thinner and
sadder with every step. Her eyes were a thousand colors all at once,
all the places she will visit without him, all the quiet ripples she
will make, all the things that will reflect off her clear surfaces like
a soft red ball of warmth. Maybe if he holds his head up high, stands
his straightest, he can make a silhouette of the man she deserves
against all her purples and oranges and pinks, every single shade.
Maybe she will say, "You are beautiful. Stay. Let's wait for darkness
to come together."