They say the world is full of an array of colors. Colors that when used wisely could convey every unsaid emotion to someone. I’ve never seen any color besides black and white before but I’m familiar with their meanings. Red was associated with anger and love. Blue with sadness and yellow with happiness. Of course, there were many other colors but what was the point of memorizing every color and what they transcribe to when you couldn’t see it? My co-workers kept insisting that seeing colors was different than reading about them. It was all about the experience they said. I was getting so tired of the useless conversations where they acted like I could just snap my fingers and every color in the world would unlock for me.

“A painting full of color is always the most striking,” Hank says while he arranged an order.

It was the usual husband forgot his wedding anniversary type so I assume he was throwing anything red into the vase.

“That’s not to say that a black and white painting can’t be eye-catching too but it’s just different.” He continues, throwing one last flower into the vase.

“There’s no point trying to sell color to me, Hank. I’ll never see it,” I say with a shrug.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says while handing the vase to me. “I just read this recent study and…”

His voice trails, leaving me guessing as to what he was going to say as he greets a new customer. Usually, I worked the register but whenever Hank was around he micro-managed. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great boss but it’s hard to do your job with someone hovering around you. Oh, and doing it for you. At least I grabbed a broom and was sweeping to make myself useful. He takes care of the customer, placing their order on top of the other orders we’ve received today. I glance over at him and watch as he goes through the pile.

“Do you actually need me here today?” I wonder, making him look over at me with an expression that looks like he forgot I was here.

“Yes, can you drop off the order I just finished?” He says gesturing to the vase on the counter.

I go over and grab it then read the address he placed on it. It was a bit far from here but I find relief in that. I was tired of the endless color conversations and useless hope that people offered along with it. I drive to my destination in silence and when I reach it I drop it off expecting to leave immediately but someone calls for me.

“Let me guess my husband forgot our anniversary…again.” An older woman says.

She’s wearing a lab coat and her hands are stuffed in her pocket. She’s looking at me with curiosity but I also spot a bit of loneliness in her eyes.

“At least he remembered the day,” I say in a light-hearted tone.

She chuckles at my statement. “Our anniversary was two weeks ago but shhh.”

“Does he not own a calendar?” I wonder.

“He does he just doesn’t use it.” She says a bit aggravated by that fact. “Would you like to come in?”

“I sho—“I stop myself.

Did I really want to go back to useless conversations and just stand by doing basically nothing? No, I did not so I agreed to come in. Her house is huge. It looks like a museum with all of the relic-like displays going on inside it. She tells me her name Carrie as she leads me to her kitchen. Once in her kitchen, she places her vase on the counter. Nearby, there’s a plate of cookies and a fruit bowl.

“Take one,” she insists then gestures to the bowl of fruit on the counter too. “And an orange too if you like.”

“I’ve always wondered why they're called oranges,” I say grabbing an orange and she looks at me a bit perplexed.

“Well, it’s obvious why dear.” She replies back.

I let out an awkward laugh and peel the orange in my hand. “So why are you wearing a lab coat are you conducting any evil experiments?”

She laughs. “No, dear, but I’m working on a color concoction.”

“A color concoction? What’s that?” I wonder.

“Have you ever heard of—”she starts but her voice becomes muffled to my ears as she says the name of the condition I have.

Hope. I could—could I? If I asked would she let me? I do just that and soon I’m in her lab, drinking the concoction. Nothing happens and we end up back in her kitchen. She offers me another orange and… it looked strange. Brighter than I’ve ever seen them before it’s like they're bursting with energy. I describe it to Carrie and she tells me that the color I’m seeing is orange. She grabs my hand, leads me to a fireplace, and sets a fire ablaze. Its fiery flames make my jaw drop. The color is still orange but as it burns the flames are full of anger and unrest. I felt a camaraderie with the flame as we were the same. I could watch this fire forever but Carrie douses the flames and takes me to another room.

In this room, there’s a painting of a monarch butterfly where its orange wings capture me as I take in its beauty. It’s orange is similar to a flame but it doesn’t ignite the same feeling. No, this feeling is so much better. Looking at it it, a forgotten feeling stirs in me. I want to follow the monarch wherever it goes. Like it’s a dream. I close my eyes imagining its flapping wings.

Tears start pouring from my eyes as I feel emblazoned like the orange flames, a hope I had extinguished igniting inside me once again.