Danger. Violence. Sirens and stop signs. Enough already!
Nurture. Growth. Fertility and freshness. Invite me in!
I meet you for the first time.
You weave stories with dilated pupils and diamond-studded smiles. The narrative arch you’ve painted spills a stream of earnest passion. Green flag.
You drone on, long after you’ve lost me, like a determined ship sailing fiercely to the harbour, with or without passengers. Red flag.
I throw a wholly unusual opinion frisbee at you. Instead of feeling attacked or fleeing, you catch my drift and wheel it back at me in your own unique way. Green flag.
I mention an achievement, a baby step I took. Not to be outdone, you flap the laundry list of your successes. Like a swift counter to a chess move, you retaliate, unmindful of my empty side of the board. There’s more to life than the black-and-white of the game, but you choose not to look up. Red flag.
You guffaw heartily in place of a guarded smile, clap loudly and dance with abandon. You have lost the measuring cups of pretention, spooned by socialisation. After all, composure is overrated and you’d rather savour all the flavours of the spectrum of feelings. Green flag.
You change who you are, based on what I say, outdoing the voltage flickering at my house and the stock market fluctuations, discussed at my workplace. Flexible? No, I’d call it fickle and feeble. Red flag.
I pour into you alien discourses and foreign passions that make me, me. You drink it in as though I quenched your thirst on a particularly parched day. You introduce me to the epiphanies and emotional tours, that make you, you. I take a ticket and ride on the bus of your adventures as we mesh lives. Green flag.
Green suits me best.
I choose green.