Synaethesia, character point-of-view
Red. Not too much red in this shop. It depends on the shades, luminosity, not only the hue. It’s exquisite.
There’s other colours abound here. Maybe if I sit at a table and chair here, I can pretend it’s a desk. Maybe in a classroom, in a large lofty tower, rising to amazing heights. Dizzying heights! Past clouds and piercing through the skies of here and yesteryear. Where I can’t scent the seashore, no more calls by macaws nearest this mountainside. Dizzying, soaring; gazing at this world below and there’s a me ringing light bells. Showering and sparkling sprays of purest white light oh-so-close upon the littlest ones lowest.
Ah! It’s Othin walking towards me — no, no, no, don’t drop the waterglass, please don’t —
Aw. Spilled it all over my sheet, did you?
Wait, what colour gel pen am I using?
“Violet today, Meissa?”
I glance at my pen and messed up papers.
“Yeah, it’s violet.”