The colors of a thousand saris swirled in her mind like so much water going down a celestial plug hole. As they billowed and spun in the unseen breeze they left colors behind, until all that was left was a world like a beautifully painted page in a children's picture book. She took off her muddy sneakers and stepped in. Each color she touched sang with it's own sweet sound. She held out her arms wide and spun like a child's spinning top so that the music encased her like a soft fleece blanket.
Even when we were at middle school he used to stick up for me. He'd say "don't talk to my wife like that!" It was funny. We weren't even dating. But he was cute so why would I mind? Then in high-school we drifted apart, different classes and busy lives. I didn't see him for another eight years, a life time really when you're that age. We bumped into one another at a bar so we sat for drinks and talked about old times. He said he used to imagine we really were married, he'd named our two kids by the time he was twelve and what kind of dog we'd have. "That's a weird fantasy," I said. He smiled like a kid and supped his beer. A week later I couldn't stop thinking about him, there was just something drawing me in. So I called him. That was five years ago now, our kids have different names though, who calls kids Optimus and Vector Prime anyway?
Slammed by the critics and loved by the punters, it was Harold's idea of a great movie. The script writer must have been about as intellectual as lobotomized chicken but the action just didn't quit. The hero was earthy, gritty – the kind of guy he fantasized of being. He kicked ass, was unapologetic and made a virtue of disobeying orders. For the full two hours he barely blinked. Of course it helped that the love interest was his idea of the perfect woman. For those blissful minutes Harold simply projected himself onto the big screen as the lead, he was his own casting director, his number one fan and there were bad guys to kill in the most adrenaline pumping ways.
The city was enormous. It was beautiful. And so much colour. There were obelisks that rose into the sky casting their shadows across the rest ground. They marked the districts and were built of stone. The city held an equally impressive arena, for sports and games that drew people from all around the world to watch men fighting with Raptors and all these other creatures. People were lining up to queue inside, some dressed in bright blues, yellows, reds, and some with hats. Some were dressed in sandy brown colours that matched the sands from beyond the city walls. But nobody cared about fashion, they were there simply for the games.