The October Music: Second Verse - Day 1

Fade to Grey
I don’t know when it started happening, to tell you the truth. It just…started. All I know is that, one morning, I woke up and my walls were grey. That doesn’t sound like a problem, I know, but they were a tan-brown before. It was bothersome, but not overwhelmingly so.

The problem came when, over the next few days, everything else in my life started to change to that same dull, washed-out grey color. My floors. My furniture. My paintings. Everything just looked like all the color had been drained out of it. I mentioned it to my friends, but they didn’t notice. I mentioned it to them as they drank their grey drinks in the grey room at the grey bar we went to that night.

It continued. Dogs walking down the street, normally golden or white with black spots, would be the same shade of grey. They merged into the background of the street and the grass, all the same color, and I could only see them when they moved because the color shifted with little ripples. I didn’t try to pet them anymore because I frankly didn’t know where they were. One of the first of many small pleasures in my life that went away, I suppose.

People were next. Random people on the street at first. I would be walking down the grey sidewalk between grey buildings and something would hit me and start yelling at me. I couldn’t see it but I knew it was there. I would give the standard apologies and keep going. I would get to work and try to find my chair and desk, but only muscle memory would get me there since I couldn’t see a thing. Being yelled at from the void became commonplace. A few mornings, I even thought about calling in to work just to prevent more unpleasantness.

And the world kept fading.

I knew that I was in worse trouble than I had thought when I woke up one morning to find that my toes were, essentially, invisible. Grey and dull and blending in. At this point, panicking was useless. I had done enough of that over the past however many days or weeks or months or whatever amount of time it had been. I had quit my job, I had quit going out. I slept when I was tired and just ate what I could yank out of the fridge, sometimes to good effect. Time had lost all meaning and it’s all just a blur, so to speak.
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Then my legs went. Then my waist. My chest. My hands. My arms. The only thing left now are my eyes, I think. I can see grey fading in from the corners, but I’m not scared. I’ll be one with the universe soon.
 I do wonder about one thing, though. If everything in the world is fading away, turning to the same dull grey color, what’s going to happen when the last bit of color leaves us?