Red. Such a lovely color. Red is a primary color, a basic color, a powerful color. The color of firetrucks, strawberries, apples, tomato sauce, ketchup, etc. It's such a brilliant color! A color that tops any other!

Oh, I want to see it. I want to see the color red.

In this world full of black and white, I can only imagine red when I read about it in papers. Researchers have found out that there are other colors than just black and white. It was all about prisms and rainbows and shit like that. Although, one color in particular stood out. It was red.

Where did the colors come from? It was something about light splitting, I think. I am not a researcher myself, and why would I be bothered about this? All the majority knows is that the world is black and white, there are no other colors than these two. However, the researchers have divided. Some say that black and white are not really "colors", some say they are and that, they should be counted as one. I stay in the "gray area", whereas I don't care either way, as long as it's not about the color red.

"John?" I heard a voice from afar. I turned around to see who it was, but it was none other than an old woman calling for her grandson who coincidentally has the same name as me. Seeing them, it reminded me of my own mother. I wonder how she and my dad are doing. It's been a while since I last contacted them. How long was it? 20-- no, maybe 27 years?

I look around the place and spotted a payphone. Shoving my cold gloved hands in the pockets of my trench coat, I headed to the payphone.

With trembling, sweaty hands, and legs shaking in sheer nervousness, I successfully managed to dial my parents after so long.

I hear beeps-- long beeps, short beeps. I can't say for sure if the coins in my pocket suffice for what I need to use to dial them again and again.

After so many beeps, I counted my coins. It wasn't enough to make another call. Without further ado, I exited the payphone, hands still buried in my pockets.

As soon as I step out, there were some droplets falling out of nowhere. I raised my head to see where it was coming from, but then, it became heavy, almost like it wants me to get down on the ground. It was a sudden downpour, the rain is heavy, and the wind is angrily howling. I did not bring an umbrella with me today. I should've watched the news today.

See, even the rain has no color. It's just transparent.

As I walk along the busy streets, going to my old, rundown, pathetic excuse for an apartment, I was thinking that indeed, other than red, there is also another favorite color that I absolutely love-- transparent. It takes in any other color, not really having a color itself. Is it even a color? What if it's just an "invisible color"? I wouldn't know. After all, this world is a mere black and white.

I have reached my destination-- a rundown apartment, my apartment. "I'm home." I talked to myself. I take my shoes and drenched trench coat off. I then hurried to the bathroom where I took a shower and changed my drenched clothes.

I step out of the bathroom, all clean and fresh. I know that I live alone, so who are the people in my kitchen? I hear giggling and chopping. There are two of them, an old woman and an old man. But who? Who? Who in the right mind would dare barge in this old, sick, rundown apartment anyway? Robbers? If so, then what are they trying to achieve? A working fridge at least?!

I creep towards them, knife in my hands. I am wearing a white t-shirt and some baggy shorts. I just had clothes to clean, and now I'm planning to clean another one, both are hard to wash up and dry.

Chest is puffing, breath is heaving, mind spinning. With trembling, sweaty hands, and legs shaking in sheer nervousness, I let out a big shout and never let them speak. I didn't even let them realize what was going on. I charged at them at full speed, putting all my strength into each movement. I was scared, was I really scared? How would I even know? Before I even knew it, I had successfully managed to kill my parents after so long.

I dropped the knife in shock. My knees gave out, and now all I am is a middle-aged man kneeling down, knife on his side, surrounded by the smell of cake, and rotting corpses of his dead parents. But, I didn't drop the knife in shock of killing my parents, I dropped it in shock of seeing another color other than black and white-- it was red, my favorite color.

Red was spread out everywhere! The kitchen, the floor, the knife, my clothes, their clothes, our bodies, and even the birthday cake! The birthday cake is also black and white, I know. They must've prepared me a chocolate cake, as always! But now, it has been tainted with the color red. Would the flavor change, I wonder?

Ah... And when I was thinking about getting overwhelmed at how easy it was to produce the color red, I felt something in my eyes-- fluids. And they were transparent-- like water, like the rain from earlier. My two favorite colors, all in front of me laid out vulnerable like this...

It's my best birthday yet!

•

"Name: John Quincy. Age: 45. Occupation: unemployed. These are all his information?" A researcher named Greg asked his co-worker, Ted.

"It seems so. Other than him allegedly killing both his parents and saw the color red, I don't think we can take much from him." Ted answers as he looks at the said middle-aged man named John Quincy through the one way glass. Only, he wasn't middle-aged anymore...

"You really believe him?" Greg asked Ted beside him, with a brow raised full of suspicion and confusion.

"I can't be sure, but..." Ted sighs, putting away his pen and notepad away. "This is exactly why we're doing this, Greg."

"For how long?"

Ted briefly glances at Greg, eyes steady and stern. "For far too long, Greg. For far too long..."

John Quincy has been replaying the scene over and over again in his mind. The memory of him killing his parents, the memory of him crying afterwards, everything, everything, everything that happened that day. He's been replaying it over and over again. The researchers decided to put him into good use, messing his brain up to replay that day over and over again to clearly identify what just happened and what different colors were present that time. If John was saying is even true or not...

Until now, it's still a black and white world.