Red Rising Pinks Novels & Stories

“That’s like saying pink isn’t its own color.” “Well...” she trails, and the boy gasps. “Pink is its own independent color!” He defends. “How dare you imply otherwise!” “What?” she shrugs, insisting that she hadn’t done nothing wrong. “Pink is just a variant of red. A lighter version.” The boy gapes, feigning deep offense as he shakes his head, those dramatics of his coming to the surface. “Wow!” He complains. “You know what? I’m done with this conversation. Clearly you’re blind and have bad taste. I can’t be seen associating with someone like you.”