It’s cold but soft, and smells like wet pavement. It is the color of thought and contemplation, and the color when you want to talk to someone but just can’t find the words. It’s the color of being in a room of people, but feeling completely alone. It’s the color of dreams that don’t have any real direction or purpose. It is sleep- not the fall on your bed, out like a light kind of sleep, but the kind that involves reading first, or laying down and smelling your pillows before you can finally drift off. It’s that ache in your chest when you want something deeply, but know it will never be yours.