Yellow. A bittersweet symphony. A tragic comedy. A love story. A hate story.

I’d walk the streets, a prisoner in a world of yellow. Every fucking thing is yellow. The sky, the trees, the people.

A woman walks by, her dress a sickly shade of yellow, her hair a tangled mess of gold. A billboard, a poster, a storefront – all bathed in the cursed hue.

A roll smoldering between my fingers, mind drifting in the usual fog. A couple of broads were perched on a bench, their voices rising above the city’s hum.

“Did you see that photo he sent? The one with him at the beach?” a girl’s voice, all sugar and spice.

“Oh my gosh, yeah! He looks hot,” the other one replied, a giggle escaping her lips.

I leaned in, a shadow in the urban landscape, eavesdropping on their clandestine conversation.

“Right? Like, way hotter than his usual selfies. I wonder if he’s actually like that in person,” the first girl mused.

“Who knows? Maybe he’s just good at angles. Or filters,” the second girl shrugged, her voice laced with skepticism.

“You’re thinking too much,” she added, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Yeah, you’re right. He’s just random,” the first girl agreed, a sigh escaping her lips.

“Random?” the second girl retorted, a hint of defiance in her voice. “And what’s this, then?” She gestured to the ring on friend’s finger.

I leaned in even closer, curiosity piqued. A love token, a symbol of affection, or perhaps just a trinket to satisfy a fleeting infatuation? The city’s cacophony faded into the background as I waited for the next chapter in this unfolding drama.

“Stop wearing that ring,” her tone stern. “You don’t even know him. He’s toying with you.”

Just as the tension between the two girls reached its peak, the first girl’s phone vibrated. A WhatsApp notification popped up on the screen. She glanced at it, a look of irritation crossing her face.

“It’s just a massage from …,” she muttered, dismissing the notification without a second thought.

As the first girl returned her attention to the conversation, the second girl couldn’t help but shake her head. She’d seen this act before, the constant distractions, the endless excuses.

“Hey, can you order another round?” the second girl asked, trying to change the subject. “I’m parched.”


“Let’s see, he keeps his word for now. I can grab his balls at any moment. Don’t forget that. Naive,” the first girl replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Two beers, por favor.”

The waiter slid the drinks across the table, his face a mask of yellowed indifference.

“What’s wrong with you?” one of the girls asked, her voice sharp with annoyance. “You’ve been staring into space for the past ten minutes.”

I forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil within. “Nothing,” I muttered, turning away from her.

“You sure?” the other girl asked, a hint of concern in her voice. “You look… off.”

I shrugged, unable to find the words to express my feelings. The world, bathed in a sickly yellow hue, seemed to be crumbling around me. The superficiality, the emptiness, the sheer lack of meaning – it was all too much to bear.


“Forget about him,” the first girl said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just enjoy our drinks.”

I turned away, the weight of their words pressing down on my shoulders.

As I wandered the streets, lost in thought, a single word echoed in my mind:

“Hey…”

from

~~~.

The irony was palpable. Here I was, a prisoner of my own mind.

I yearned for a world beyond the yellow, a place where colors were vibrant and emotions were raw.

But as I gazed upon the city, I realized that such a place was but a distant dream.

The yellow hue, once a symbol of hope and optimism, now represented the decay of human connection.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. The city, a sea of yellow, was a stark contrast to the storm brewing within me.