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Summary
Victor Nikiforov didn’t believe in soulmates. The idea seemed absurd, how could one possibly suddenly see color? When he was younger, curled up against his mother as he was read a story, he’d often ask his mother what red looked like, how it felt to see purple, what green was. She never knew, though, because she didn’t see colors either. That was the root of it all for Victor, until he got older and realized the statistical improbability of finding one certain person in this world in such a short lifetime. It was impossible, naive, and stupid.