#thomas yi

[fleur-de-menthe]

:: orange

"Is that really your favorite color?" The rhythmic tapping of their keyboards filled the air. The mechanic whir of the air conditioning drowned out the sound of the summer wind and chirping cicadas.

"Is there a problem with that?" he frowned. It wasn’t as if he was seeking her approval or anything. It was just a question, though one he didn’t directly answer. He felt her back press against his, then he was pushed forward as she stretched her arms in the air. His lips drew into an even deeper frown.

"Not really. I just thought it was a funny color was all," the room was filled with her chiming laughter.

"You don’t like it?"

He felt her shoulders rise and fall, a gesture he interpreted as “I dunno.”

"Well then, what’s your favorite color, Micky?"

An absence of typing stretched within the confined walls. First her fingers halted, then his did as well. The sound of the air conditioner droned on. A few minutes passed and they both began typing again.

"I don’t really have a favorite color. At least, not yet."