Author: Lydia Cline

He had always had a quiet appreciation for blue. Not loudly, he would never be as conformist as to declare a love for, like, the number one colour for boys and men. No – he was loud in his love for green – the thinking man’s blue. And yet, as he stared up at the sky – now entirely devoid of blue – he was overcome be melancholy. Oh … the most blue thing there is … gone forever. That day – the sun had risen, birds had tweeted- but the sky had gone.
In its place lay a reflective kaleidoscope of colour. The colours already existing in his landscape replicated up and up and up and up until your neck twists round – such is life on a spherical planet.
That morning everyone had the same conversation over coffee or wheatgrass lattes or matcha smoothies – “I thought I was tripping-“ “me too, I mean I thought – that’s it – I’ve gone crazy” “where did it go?” “Beats me”
And it was strange to think everyone on earth was going through a sudden gut punching feeling at the same time – the feeling being so sure of the next step and putting your foot out and finding just air. And you can’t blame the air or your foot or even yourself really. Just that sad feeling of knowing something has ended and there wasn’t a way of getting it back. He supposed you could call it grief.
So if you can imagine – with the whole world feeling like they had gone through an unprepared breakup… the mood was pretty bleak. Unifying – but bleak.
But what do you do when everything changes around you? I mean, the world still exists. Taxes are still due.
So he went to work. Tried not to look. It was tough.