Grey, everything was grey.
She had seen enough of the world, despite the misconception that her nose was as high as her father's salary. She had seen enough to know that white and black never existed; they co-existed. As grey. No one was completely good, no one truly bad. She understood the world and had learnt to survive in it, get used to all the greyness.
And then he barged in, a splash of colour.
A colour so vivid, so bright, it knocked her off her feet; causing chaos in her thoughts. The sudden spurt of life was not very welcome, not when it brought down her whole world-view like a fickle house of cards. His presence was too strong for her to handle. Never before had she encountered such a personality.
No, he didn't affect her at all.
She had always been aware of how grey she was. Why wouldn't she? Her complexities, her own contradictions were crystal clear to her. Why else would she look down upon at everyone, scornful, when deep down she'd love to have their company. Why else would she not admit that the world was not all grey?
Well, it was all grey. She had decided on that, hadn't she? For, he did not matter.
Of course he did not matter.
Days passed, and his colourful presence grew stronger and stronger amidst the sea of greys. It blinded her and awed her (she would never admit it though, why would she? He never mattered). In addition, it annoyed her, as he acted like he had found the colour in her. Did he not understand? There was no colour, not in her, not in anyone, not in him. (She would never accept that her theory was moot, that everything was not grey).
Because, in the end, he did not matter.
Did he?
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