(written by Sarah:)

I decided this morning, gazing into a paint-splattered mirror and nursing a headache, that I need more purple in my life. I’m not a purple particularist. Rich royal indigo-violet swashes my buckle. Popsicle purple is an old friend. I like lilac. Purple tastes like blue does in the wee hours of the morning - like white pepper and copper pennies and roses and sex and clouds.

I wish it smelled like purple in here. It smells like hot, and, more affrontingly, like neurotoxins in cologne.

I miss.