Sweat trickles down my neck as I bend down to refill my brush with paint. My yellow splotched feet staring up at me as I swirl my brush in the mesmerizing color. I wonder to myself if it’ll be hard to remove it from my skin but shrug and continue working. I apply small messy strokes to the washed up concrete. Rich texture bringing life to the walls. Noises of witty banter and colorful comebacks fill the background. I focus on the task at hand. Stroke, stroke, stroke, bend, and refill. All in a continuous replay. At times my mind wandered and my pace slowed but my hand continued the mindless pattern. Then it was over. Paints were put away and hands washed clean. I become distracted by some nearby conversations but as the bus was loading and bodies shuffled into the seats I turned around for one last glance. And it hit me like a sudden flash. Bright.
Electric. Can’t miss, Yellow.
by Marwa