Butterfly

No one was surprised when a butterfly flew in though the closed window.

The butterflies had been acting strange for a long time.

We were more surprised when a woman came hurtling in through the glass.

She had long hair, the colour was hard to describe.

We were all astounded when she stood up, apologised to us and climbed back through the broken window. I was the only person who saw her after that, I was the only one who cared at all.

Everyone was grey. There was no life.

All of my long life I had waited...

Waited for someone with colour.

I didn't know her name, I only knew her colour.

A city without colour, it shouldn't be too hard.

But it is never easy.

If it was easy, then no one would care.

I cared, it didn't matter what people said.

I cared.

The day was grey, which was normal. The sky was grey, which was normal.

The city was grey, like it was every day.

I saw it, a flash of colour in a colourless world.

I followed.

It was gone, there was no colour here.

There it was, colour against the grey of the buildings.

I followed, heart finally beating.

Where has the colour gone?

I cannot find it.

It has escaped me yet again.

All I can do is cry.

Why do you cry?

I look up.

Colour is all I see.

Why do you cry?

Because the colour had left.

Why does that make you cry?

Because the colour is all there is left.

How do you know?

Because the butterfly is gone.

Butterfly?

The window was never mended.

The colour is everywhere.

The butterfly flies through the open window.

The colour is back, the butterflies are back.

The world has colour.

But for how long?