Pink

Pink

Short story

Taking your first breath, and leaving the comfort of your mothers warm, pink womb. You were born naked, in a pure state of existence. From the sack to the egg, you traveled a long distance to be where you are now. Your brothers and sisters lost their way on the journey and got left behind—you were chosen. When your flushed pink skin touched the element, you kicked and screamed at the woman above you, rivers of blue tears flowed down your face.She didn’t question your birthday suit or laugh or cry. She cradled your defenseless body and looked at you in awe.

When they finally took you home, they wrapped you in a pink blanket, gave you pink little socks, and attached you to her pink nipple. A warm steady stream of strawberry milk seeped out from her bud, flowing into your gummy pink mouth. 

They put you to bed in a pink colored room, with a soft pink carpet, long pink curtains, and a pink wooden crib. You went to sleep and dreamt of pink, hot pink, light pink, dark pink, and blue. 

The blue was flooding in, until your mother walked in and scooped you up. She cradled you softly—rocking you in her pink rocking chair.