Blue

Blue. An adjective. Depressed in spirits. Dejected. Melancholic.

Blue. A name in Jeremy’s Skype contact list. A favorite one, in fact, standing above all others as if on a pedestal. It’s there, even though he doesn’t know why. It just appeared one morning, out of nowhere, to claim a spot on the road to insanity. He thought of blocking it once, twice, three times, but never managed to go through with it and, to this day, it’s still in the same place, taunting him with its impossibility, insinuating itself in its lips through constant, rhythmic repetition.

Blue. Blue. Blue. Blue. What does it mean? Blue. Blue. Blue. Blue. What does it want? Blue. Blue. Blue. Blue. Why doesn’t it stop whispering?

“You’re the one whispering,” he mutters to himself, transfixed at the screen, mouse hovering over the name and its non-existent information. Nothing is associated with it. Blue is just blue, two consonants and two vowels in succession, a colorful riddle to challenge all riddles, and turn his Sunday into curious agony.

“I’m so blue and you are too,” the computer seems to echo, and he can’t help but chuckle in return. “A Barry White reference, seriously?” he thinks out loud. “Bring on the caffeine and wake up, Jer!”

He drinks his cup, pours another, and goes for the third. He avoids the sugar to focus on the bitter, to feel it wrap around his tongue, savoring the bad until the good emerges from its center, but coffee remains dull to him no matter what. It’s brown and tertiary as opposed to the primary blue. It exhausts itself rather quickly when compared to the infinitude of blue waters, blue eyes, blue…

The echo reaches his ears once more and he sees a glimpse of himself on the screen. There’s more truth to it than he acknowledged at first. He is blue. He is dressed in blue from head to toe, the bed sheets and the curtains in the bedroom are blue, the chair he’s sitting on is blue, and blue volumes fill the bookshelves all around. His house is to be painted anew next week, and he chose a lovely shade of blue to go with it. The only thing bluer than his blue is the blue he cannot grasp.

But what if he could? What if he were just to hit that circular blue button, make a call into the unknown? What would the blue show him? What would it say? Would there be any other colors in waiting, or just a pool of dark, cold emptiness? Dreaming is easy, but making dreams real is an adventure of its own, one that many yearn for so badly but only few stick with it. “Last call for bets in the fantasy roulette,” the croupier announces. Will you go with red, black… or blue?”

Jeremy’s fingers twitch over the keyboard. They’re growing restless, light and heavy at the same time. It’s another contradiction coming to life and yet he’s grinning from ear to ear, unable to stop. The button goes down, connecting sounds rise triumphantly, and the brief moment of static that follows is broken up by a jubilant realization.

“Well done,” Sapphire congratulates him, watching his droopy eyes through the laptop’s camera. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

Jeremy listens and understands, although he can’t respond in kind. Not until she gives the word that unlocks that part of his docile mind. It will happen soon enough but, for now, he’s just content to hear her voice once again, feasting on memories, emotions, and the unmistakable awareness of what blue is really all about.

Blissfully led, untroubled, enraptured.