Why Does 'A Mango-Shaped Space' Protagonist See Colors In Sounds?

I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.

Okay, take a deep breathe and down the memory lane we go. As far as I’m told, I just woke up from a terrible accident that occur months ago that I have no idea- as a matter of fact, I don’t have any recollection of my life before waking up. There are three things that I’m certain: first is that the ‘accident’ has something to do with flight. I know what I saw. It was a giant pair of wings. Secondly, a guy whose face I can’t seem to recall but for some reason is all I can think about. And lastly, I know these two things intersect with one another and the for the reason why and how? I’m not sure. And as I begin to collect the broken fragments of him in my memory, I also begin to collect my missing pieces. Whether its for the better or the worse is what I'm about to find out. Okay, let’s do this again, shall we? Take a deep breathe and down the memory lang we go.

Growing up as a beautiful, smart, and obedient daughter, Auva Fermentera is like the perfect child that all parents desire to have. With all the money that her family has, it seems like there is nothing they can’t afford to have. But soon later, Auva realizes that it is not true when her family opposes her dream to pursue painting. Obeying them at first, Auva learns to stand up for herself when she was blamed of her engagement being cancelled as her fiancé runs away. A very cliche move. Only to find out that he is hiding in the same place she decided to start her new life. A place which will be like their canvas while they paint each other’s life. With every stroke of their paint, a bunch of colorful memories come together. But it only takes one event that made their paint brush break which stains their built memories. Will they try to fix it? Or will they let it be as it is?

Iris Grey lost her father at 10, and due to the never ending reminder of her father’s memory in there old home, they decided to move out, leaving her first love despite the pain. 8 years later, they come back home, only to find out her mom was going to marry her first loves father. She felt betrayed. And upon walking out due to anger, she find her way right at their old front lawn and right inside his father's office. Never been so confused as to why everything seemed to have not changed. She entered and saw the book she and her father used to draw together as both love colors and writing fantasies. Little did she know it was a portal to a whole new dimension. A parallel world where colors come from. The Realm of Hues. Stuck in a whole new world filled with conflict, with unfinished tasks and her first love turned to step brother, could she stop herself from falling deeper? Or would the love grow deeper than it was before. Prepare as we enter the realm of Hue.

Your color is still haunted by the past that it keeps on drowning you down until you can no longer appreciate the life that was given to you. Despite the enduring pain that lingered in your body I'd love to see your color shining through.

I can hear the voices of every organ in the human body. In my three years of practicing medicine, I've never misdiagnosed a single patient. For instance, a young man with wobbly legs comes in for a consultation, suspecting he has a terminal illness. His kidneys, however, start cursing up a storm. "You're juggling eight girlfriends at the same time. Even a workhorse on a farm doesn't get worked this hard!" I try my best not to laugh, prescribe him some supplements, and casually suggest he learn a little time management. Then, a well-dressed white-collar professional walks in and tells me she's experiencing heart palpitations and dizziness and insists that she must have congenital heart disease. Her heart immediately protests loudly in my ear. "You drink three iced Americanos a day! I'm about to burst out of your ribcage and start doing calisthenics!" I smile and prescribe her some chamomile tea. Less than half a month later, she returns with a healthy, rosy complexion to present me with a banner of appreciation. From that moment on, I earn the nickname "the Human X-Ray". … One afternoon, a woman walks in with a listless-looking boy. Maeve Brown looks sick with worry. "Dr. Young, please take a look at him! Lennon has been suffering from headaches, and he has already taken several days off school due to them." However, his brain is practically throwing a party in my ear. "Hell yeah, I successfully skipped class! I'm going to grind ranked matches all night long!" I smile as I diagnose him with malingering, and Lennon White goes home with a flushed face. Ten days later, Maeve and Hubert White burst into my office. This time, Lennon's complexion is pallid. Bracing himself against the doorframe, his body sways uncontrollably. Initially, I assume he's putting on another performance. However, the moment I hear the voices emanating from within his body, my mind goes blank. I immediately push him out of the room and dial 911. "I'd rather treat a dog with this condition than treat you!"