Fictional Stories
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Her skin is slightly darker, while I’m slightly jealous she let the sun kiss her body. I can tell she dyed her own hair because of how the brassy yellow tone is uneven. Reminds me of when we painted our bedroom together, she insisted on a sunny colour while I preferred blue -but I gave her my word, all my words- after she painted, the wall became patchy, but she liked it “to make her feel less generic”, and I laughed under my breath, knowing nothing was generic about her. 

As she flips to devour another page of her book, my eyes glance upon her green fingernails- she never liked to paint her nails, and she despises the colour green because she once lost a parakeet.

I guess along the way she forgot about finding the parakeet, she finally let it go and made peace with the facts. After searching for years, she found something else, maybe she found out green fits with her complexion -I mean what colour wouldn’t?- or how painting her nails relieved stress. No matter what she found, she chose to break the habit of listening for her bird, or pulling her binoculars up. In time, she no longer needed the parakeet, the bird was replaced by something else. Am I a part of things she let go? Did she forget to find me after I was lost? I refuse to believe I was replaced by something -someone- else, I refuse to be a damn green feathered bird. 

Though, she was sitting in front of me on the park bench, about three metres away, she never looked up. Her hands cradling the book, and once again I am slowly slipping away into the depths of her beauty as she does in the printed pages. I snap back into reality, as a man sits next to her, they smile at each other. What a lucky guy, although I don’t believe in luck. He’s smart for choosing her. I’m foolish for leaving her. I finally decide to fly back into her stash of lost things, hoping one day she might pick me up, and see what I was once worth to her. For now I stood up, took a deep breath, and walked back home.

I am looking at him. He’s wearing the outfit he used when we painted our bedroom; denim jeans, a turquoise v-neck and his destroyed vans. I still remember the deep blue he wanted to paint the walls, just like the ocean we visited in Malibu, but my stubborn personality forced the walls to be yellow, and his soothing voice promised me, “I give you my word”. I miss his voice. His husky chuckles, how “darling” used to roll effortlessly off his tongue.

He comes here, to this park, every Saturday at 3:15 pm and little does he know I sometimes come to occasionally glance upon his deep royal eyes and adorable cowlick. I look back down into my book, reading the poems I wrote earlier today, my favourite one is where I am yellow and he is blue. How if we mixed, we could’ve been green. I used to hate green because of my missing parakeet, but he made me love it all over again. Every inch of my body wishes I would’ve painted both blue and yellow on our bedroom walls to make green. I shouldn’t have let go.
But as I looked up from my poem, he was gone. I guess he was never really fond of the colour green.

* Author’s Note *
I decided to write this short piece to establish the differences that two people have in every relationship (both romantic and just friends). Many wonder what the ingredient is to a healthy and successful relationship; it took me a lot of heartbreak to realise that it’s no option, but determination to overcome the differences with the sacrifices made for one another. Kind of like giving up Chipotle to eat salad with your health-freak friend/boyfriend/girlfriend. Basically, giving your whole self up for them to evolve from you and me to us. Another idea I wanted to emphasise is not every relationship has to consist of two very similar people, they could be completely different like being blue and yellow, (but are willing to make sacrifices) and still work.

I expressed the differences through colour because, growing up I developed colour synesthesia, where I see words/pictures as colour (as well as hear, taste and even feel colours). This is also how I memorise most of my school work, by colour classification. I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed putting it together!

Words by Sam Budiartho // Photography by Becca Anne.

© 2015 Reef Magazine



  1. I loved this. I loved being able to read this from both of their perspectives and how a little miscommunication happened. If only one of them had approached the other, if only he didn’t remember what green used to mean to her… If only. Very powerful piece.

    Liked by 2 people

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