“The child and I color red.”
“Wha’d you say, man?”
“The child and I color red.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You will see; everyone will see, the color red.”
“What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, man?”
The disheveled looking man sat up from on the bed and
looked across the room at his cellmate, his disturbed eyes boring into the
petty thief.
“I said: The child and I color red,” the man jumped to
his feet.
“You are one crazy son of a bitch.”
“Yes, yes I am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I
will paint red.”
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