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Summary
Melancholy has a distinct color.
It’s blue, but not a rich blue of that of the deep sea. It’s the color of ice blowing off a glacier at dusk, pale and haunting. It morphs into deep blacks when it touches your fingertips and it swarms around a person like a thick fog, threatening to suffocate whomever its wrapped itself around.
Clarke is familiar. She’s familiar because its become a part of her morning routine: take a shower, apply light mascara, get dressed, and watch as the color of melancholy snakes around her hair, tinting the sharp blonde.
Melancholy has a distinct color, but even more so, it hugs you like a friend and betrays you like an enemy.
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After tragedy alters Clarke’s outlook on life, she turns her back on everything set out before her: medical school, a life of privilege, and most importantly, family. When she rents a room in The Ark – a brewery converted into living spaces – she’s forced out of her comfort zone when surrounded by the tenants who live there.
Particularly a curly-haired brunette with a tendency to combine insults with historical references, intentionally keep her awake, and even most frustrating, make her not stop thinking about him.
What a dick.
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Bookmark Notes:
Makes me cry every time I read
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