brown.

  Brown.
  It’s a warm, pleasant color, and like any other color comes in many
varieties, different tones and hues and shades and values. There was
deep blackish-brown like dark chocolate being mixed with tea, or the
paler lighter brown of hot cocoa with marshmallows melting inside. There
was brown like the wooden oak desk in the center of the agency, and
brown like the familiar mud stains the country boy would track into the
building with his dirty shoes.
  There was brown like his hair, fluffy and soft, the sunlight making some
strands light up like gold.
  There was brown like his eyes, deeper and not as bright, sometimes
didn’t look like they were alive.
  There was brown like his coat, tan and washed away, worn and used,
fraying at the edges.
  There was brown like his blood, dried up on his bandages where he hadn’t
bothered to clean.
  There was brown like the rope he was tying into a knot…