People always said, “Yellow is such a happy color!”
and he’d just turn away.
They were commenting on the flowers in his yard; hundreds
of daffodils and lilies and roses and
daisies- all yellow.
His wife had planted them, adding more and more every
year, she said because yellow made her happy.
He wanted to pull them out, poison them, set them on
fire, but he couldn’t do it.
Because of her. Because she loved them.
He’d sat by her bedside as the liver failure turned
her lovely skin sickly yellow and eventually killed her.
He hated the color yellow.
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