Another day , another problem, Andrea thought to herself as she threw back the ratty covers of her creaky bed, cringing as her warm feet felt the harsh cold of the floor. She stretched her arms out, trying to remove the painful crink in her back. Must have slept wrong on it. Again.
Andrea sighed. Today was not going to be a good day. She turned to look out of the window, hoping to see some blue in the sky. Her hopeful thoughts got ran over by the car called reality as soon as she peeked out. It was a stone cold, industrial gray day. Andrea remembered when she had just moved to New york City . She remembered how much she loved the gray. After moving from Florida ,the omnipresent sun was, for once, not glaringly obvious in her face. Now she missed the sun's blatancy. Now all she saw was gray. Gray skies, gray bulidings, gray hairs, gray thoughts, gray people. This city must really be getting to her.
Andrea worked as a secretary for a law firm in lower Manhattan, a poorly-paying job where she was surrounded by blood hounds, beauracrats and barbies. She once had dreams to be an architect, to design the skyscrapers that towered over humanity. Unfortunatley the shadow called Fate had other plans. Andrea just hoped that this hellhole would one day pay off, and be just another page in the memoir. Andrea got dressed and walked over to her cramped kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, her one luxury in the morning. She pressed the power button. The light didn't turn on, and she tried again.
The machine was broken. A stream of rather inventful profanities streamed from Andrea's pursed lips. She ran her hands through her hair, feeling her face for the worry lines that shouldn't have been on her youthful face. It was getting harder to make ends meet these days. The firm was laying off employees by the dozen. She worked hard and kept quiet, hoping to keep her position. It was all she had. Andrea grabbed her bag and, remembering the skies, grabbed an umbrella. She walked out of her dirty apartment comlex, its stark plainess a cold reminder of her situation. She was almost halfway to the metro when she felt a water drop hit her hand. Andrea groaned. The rain just couldn't wait for her to get on the metro, could it, eh? She felt another raindrop hit her shoulder. Oddly enough, the rain wasn't cold. It was rather....rather warm.....
Andrea looked at the hand that was hit by the rain.
A splotch of the most regal purple adorned the top of her hand, so big it almost touched the second knuckle of all of her fingers. She pinched herself. Could she have accidentally brushed something that had wet paint on it? It was possible. Couldn't have been the rain.The drops continued to fall, increasing in velocity. Andrea looked at her shoulder. A bloom of a red so pure you could cry spread over her shoulder.
What was going on?
Andrea looked at the splotch on her hand only to see it be joined by a drop of sea blue and Ireland green.
What was this?
Andrea looked around her. the sidewalk was becoming an the canvas of some splatter-painter, a riot of color dumped on it. But it wasn't only on the sidewalk. It was everywhere! it covered the building, the trees! The people! Colors of the richest hues, jewel tones from nature itself arranging themselves on the world.
It was raining color.
Andrea couldn't explain why, but a huge smile lit up her face and an indescribable joy lit her soul on fire. She danced around, jumping in puddles of sunshine yellow. She sang to the marvelous magenta that was coating her old shoes, giving them new life. She skipped through the pools of vermillion, lsughing all the way. Andrea did this all the way to work,walking into her office looking a like a living Jackson Pollock. When her boss asked her what happened, Andrea replied:
"Mother Nature decided that Manhattan needed some color today."
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