“Beige. That is the colour of my life.” Jean declared, holding up a tan coloured skirt as she shopped with her friend.
“Beige?” Paulette studied her own green top.
“Yes. Just Beige. Unexciting, predictable and reliable. A non colour. I do the same thing every day, at the same time. Nothing exciting, or dramatic ever happens. It’s boring.”
“Surely grey is…”
“Probably. But grey is dull, cold and depressing. There is enough warmth in Beige to lift the spirits into the barely positive.” Jean shrugged. “I even look beige. My hair is neither blond nor brunette, my skin only partially tanned and my lips reliant on lip gloss for colour.”
Paulette eyed her friend uncertainly before shaking her head.
“I don’t know what you are talking about Jean. There is nothing wrong with your life, everything seems perfect to me. You shop daily, you have two kids thriving in school.”
“Yeah, so why am I so bored of it?”
“You just need to find something else to do, something rewarding.”
“Mmmm. But I volunteer at the residential home three afternoons a week. ”
“Well, let’s see if buying a splash of colour will liven you up again.”
Three hours later, Jean settled her bags into the boot of the car, and slipped behind the steering wheel. Turning the keys, she eased the jag into life, gently steering out of the car park and into the busy street. Despite her careful emergence, a yellow beetle sped round the corner, plunging Jean into a black darkness of shock and pain.
Jean opened her eyes slowly, wincing at the intensity of the gleaming sunlight that highlighted the ruins of her car. Numbly, she glanced round, barely taking in the bustle of fluorescent yellow and green jackets, hearing the shouted commands and murmured comforts as a paramedic spoke to her through the remains of the window. Looking down she stared at the steady spread of scarlet blood as her life slowly seeped away.
“At least I won’t end in beige.” She murmured to the paramedic by her side as she slowly flipped away.