Colors.

I looked down at my hands in horrified, petrified shock, as the color slowly drained out of them.

Ever since I had met the man who I would spend the rest of my life with, I had been able to see in all the beautiful splendid gift of color, reds and blues, purples and yellows and greens and oranges and pinks…

It had all started when we had seen each other at a dance. That night he had asked me out, and soon we were at our very own wedding, with bouquets of multicolored flowers, rosy pink tablecloths, and a golden arch with deep green ivy climbing it.

It was too bad that not everyone could see it all, especially the shimmering rainbow in the sky above us.

You see, we can only see color when we have met our souls match, our one true love. It sounds cliche, but it’s really an amazing gift, to know exactly who is the right one for you, because suddenly the world is more perfect than you could ever imagine.

At my wedding, lots of people were able to enjoy the bright colors, but it was saddening to see those who couldn’t. Children who didn’t even understand the concept yet were there, but the saddest was my grandmother, sitting next to an empty chair that had been meant for my grandfather, before he passed away.

And she saw none of it, the elegance of all the color around her was gone from her view, and after 53 years of beautiful light and change, she was back to the endless black and white, with shades of gray as the only difference.

And now it was happening to me.

Gasping, I stared around at my living room, trying to memorize the colors of my walls and floors, the purple lamp, the cherry wood table that had been my mothers.

And then I looked into my beautiful little daughter’s eyes, seeing the green with the ring of gold around the black pupil. She was to young to understand what was happening, and was confused by my tears.

Sobbing I knelt to the ground and pulled her close, winding my fingers through her soft yellow curls. I focused on her light skin, her slightly darker freckles spattering her nose, but as I watched, the color disappeared, and her bright eyes darkened to shades of black and white. Her hair was a light gray instead of blonde, and her skin looked ashen.

My husband had died.

I would never see him or color again, I would never see my daughters hair change color, or her eyes sparkle in the light, or watch her get grass stains on her skirt.

Everything would be muted and lost.

And she would have all these experiences without a father.

My one true love had died, and I didn’t know how, or why, but he was gone.

And mine and my daughter’s worlds were changed forever.