Pt1

Every color is seen differently from each person. Red could be anger, or it could be love, be a stop light. To Cyrus's mother, yellow was a scary color. It represented anxiety, especially when it was somewhere that it wasn't meant to be. The sun was fine. Cyrus's eyes weren't. When he was born, instead of crying, he blinked up at his mother with his strange eyes, gold specks swimming in the yellow and orange of his irises. His blurry eyes could barely make her out, a face with her mouth wide open. A piercing ringing in his ears that meant that she was screaming. It was only then that he started to cry, a shrill sound that was as young as it was old.