Marseilles

The pink light bathed the room in a soft, almost unreal glow. He looked at the ceiling, feeling the sheets rustle softly under my fingers. This wasn't his room, that was for sure. His was covered in rock posters and littered with guitar effects. Everything here exuded tenderness and… Hello Kitty. Two plush cats, nestled on the pillows, seemed like the imperturbable guardians of this pink kingdom. Funny how he'd ended up here.

The door creaked softly, and you entered the room. Your hair was a halo in the garland, and shadows danced in your eyes. "Are you awake?" your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He nodded, feeling the color creeping up his cheeks. Awkwardness hung in the air like a fog.

Yesterday we were at a party, then a long walk in the rain. He remembers how you were shaking, and how he offered you his jacket. I remember your laughter and the sparkle in your eyes under the streetlight. And then – fragments: a taxi, your hand in his, and for some reason… this pink room.

You came closer, handing me a mug. "Tea with lemon. It will help." He took the mug, your fingers brushing for a moment. And in all this absurd pink realm, looking into your eyes, he felt something new being born within him, something warm and fragile. Perhaps even... love. Or maybe it was just the pink light that had such a magical effect. But he wanted to believe the former.