Her favorite color isn’t black because it makes her seem tough or different from the rest. She doesn’t like it because she is flashed back disgusted countenances from others or because it makes her eyes look lighter. She likes it because it reminds her of her coffee every morning, warming up her fingertips. It is also the color of her abused boots she wears to all her adventures. Black feels raw slipping off her tongue. Black is the color that seeps from the skin from a deep cut. Black is the color of the font in her favorite book. Its darkness intrigues her, not knowing what it holds and constantly pushing her to explore. It is the color she sees in herself. It is a black hole, filled with everything that was destroyed. Everyone else likes being abstract with a variation of colors like pinks, violets, and blues, looking like a distorted galaxy. Black is a combination of every color on the spectrum. Black is her favorite color because her soul is black.