His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress
I could see the room clearly, the light coming through them in the afternoon—
What color.
I stopped.
I reached again, harder, the way you press on a bruise to make sure it still hurts, still means something.
Blue. They were blue. I was almost sure.
Except the more I looked at them in my head, the more the blue seemed to shift, seemed to slide toward grey, toward something without a color at all, like paint drying wrong, like a photograph left too long in the sun.
I tried green.