Rose
I stared at the white ceiling above me. Whiteโthe color that waits to be changed, to be claimed by any shade poured into it. The last layer in a painting, the one that ties everything together.

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Rose
I stared at the white ceiling above me. Whiteโthe color that waits to be changed, to be claimed by any shade poured into it. The last layer in a painting, the one that ties everything together.

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