The colour grey

The sun filtered through the wooden blinds and filled the room with a calm orange glow. A plump, bespectacled man swivelled in his chair as he scanned a booklet with a furrowed brow while on the other side of the desk another man stood tall, a grave and serious look on his face, watching the other man intently. He brought one of his hands out of the pocket of his suit trousers to scratch his chin, a noticeable red band of skin on the fourth finger.
      “What do you think?”
      “Hold your horses Dave, I’m almost done.”
      “You were almost done ten minutes ago.”
      The bespectacled man looked at David over the rim of his glasses and licked his finger to flip over the page, which he did – from David’s view – painfully slowly. His beady eyes darted to and fro across the page, his tongue running across his lip subconsciously and brushing the thick moustache under his nose. Suddenly he closed the booklet and threw it down onto his desk as he sat back to look up at David.
      “I don’t like the ending.”
      “What? Why not?”
      “Don’t get me wrong, I really like the story. A tragic love story of murder and betrayal; it really is quite good. But I don’t like the ending; it’s too out of character.”
      David ran his hands through his hair to hide the heavy gulp he took. He shifted his weight to his other foot. “What do you mean by that?”
      “He loves her right?”
      “Yes. Did you not get that through the story?”
      “Yes yes I did, but that’s not the point. I understand that she betrayed him and, as a result, she was killed. But why does he have to be so…” he trailed off for a moment, waving his hands in the air as if wafting the right word towards him, “Unemotional?”
      “What?”
      “He’s so unemotional about it. He has just watched the love of his life die in his arms, and all he can do is cock his gun and-” he picked up the booklet and opened it at the back page and read aloud from it, “-‘laying her down on the ground, he took one last look at her peaceful face before he turned and limped towards the exit. His face was set; his eyes standing grey and hard with grim determination as left the building. Finally, he could rest.’? I thought he had blue eyes anyway?”
      “William, I don’t see what the problem is.” David replied, pushing his thumb and index finger into his eyes. He had moved over to the window while William was talking, trying his best to steady his shaking hands.
      “He should be distraught! He should be down on his knees and weeping over her body. After all that time he spent on his journey, and all the feelings he felt for her, he should be crying over her body with complete abandonment. This woman meant everything to him. He can’t just leave her there without any kind of emotion.”
      David threw his arms up in the air, “Why not? Why can’t he just leave her behind? Why does he have to ‘weep over her body’?” He was almost shouting now.
      “Because it’s completely out of character!” William replied, “Half way through the story he emotionally proclaims his love to her; in a jealous rage he kills the man who is courting her; Dave, he writes poetry for her for Christ’s sake. He would never be so heartless to her, living or dead." He scratched his moustache.
      “You obviously don’t get it.”
      “Then enlighten me why don’t you?”
      David began to walk round the room, trying his best to keep his back straight and his head tall. “He is so… so heartless to her because she ripped it out of him! She did not just betray him in the fight, but emotionally too. He loved her wholly – as you so easily pointed out – and he gave his entire heart to her! She took it and smashed it into nothingness!” He slammed his hands down on the desk and leaned over to meet William eye to eye, lowering his voice to a rasping whisper. “She killed him inside. He doesn’t show emotion when she dies because he doesn’t feel it. His blue eyes have turned grey because that’s all he sees. Everything is gone to him.”
      For the first time, William noticed the unkempt stubble and grime on his old friends face. His eyes – usually a sparkling green – were now dull and bloodshot; the skin around them sagging and dark. David stood up straight again and fixed his shirt. A weak smile appeared on his face.
      “So what’s it going to be Will?”
      William watched David slip his hands in his pocket cockily, trying to act confident to sell his story. He sighed. “I’ll pass it on to my superiors. It’s up to them now.”
      Details were sorted and they parted ways with a firm handshake, David walking out the door with a faint smile on his face – he had finally done it. He stopped at the doorway and looked back at William and the booklet. “I guess I can get some sleep now that I’ve finished that thing.” He said, and left.
      As soon as he heard the office door click shut, and the sound of David’s footsteps had died out, William stood up from his chair. He walked to the centre of the room, sank to his knees – facing the wall with a cross nailed onto it – and prayed.