I live in a city where you can see feelings in colors. Every morning, I wake up and look out the window. The blue lights outside tell me that people are sleeping peacefully.
Yesterday was a normal day. I went to the bakery, and the man there had a soft yellow color around his hands. He was a little nervous but happy. On the street, a girl was waiting for the bus. Her color was light purple — she looked hopeful. An old man walked slowly next to her. His color was brown, so I knew he felt sad.
At noon, I heard a child crying. The corner where she sat turned dark gray and blue. She felt alone. But then her mother came running. Her pink color was so warm and bright. The gray disappeared.
In the evening, I took a walk by the sea. People were getting off the ferry. Their dark blue colors fell into the water. Everyone was tired.
Now I am sitting on my balcony. The city is quiet. I look at the sky. It is not blue, not gray. The moon is rising, and its light is white. Maybe white is the color of my feelings right now.