He was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed. He had come to her in a whirlwind of colors, from the blonde streaks in his hair to the red shoes on his feet. Now, he was just shades of gray – the only gray thing in her existence. Life and nature, in their full colors, outweighed his beauty. Now he was just an eyesore; she often looked past him to observe flocks of birds in the sky or the stoplight transitioning from red to green, his mouth moving but none of his words registering into her mind. How could she pay attention to him when there was so much more to pay attention to?

He had given her everything so that she could be happy.

And now she was happy without him. “Sorry,” she whispered, backing away from him as he remained perched on the bar stool. His grip on his glass tightened.

“I know.” He didn’t look up at her as her footsteps receded, almost regretfully, and just like that her burden had been passed onto him.

Love wasn’t color-blind.