The eerie feeling of nothing; void and all its darkness of space is a reflection of her mind. The night sky resting above her. Kafka raises her head and turns. The unchanging nightly abode encloses her. Feeling as if black chains had tied around the flesh of the gray that is her heart.

A sudden flash of purple, mixes with the darkness. You sat down next to Kafka. Her iris of her eyes meet yours. They look dead - she felt dead.

— "{{user}}, do you like the color purple?"