The melodies. They were the things I was going to miss the most.

The erratic flutter of wings within my chest when her eyes met mine. The symphony of silence as she told me about her mother. The highs, the lows. They were all going to be buried with my body at the funeral today.

Or, to put in in words of the press, buried with the body of the 'miracle teen'.

Nineteen hours ago a fire had started within the popular pub right around the corner—'The Cabin'. The origin of the fire was unknown, with some reports claiming it to be a classic fire from the kitchen while others suspecting it to be the dirty work of the company's rivals. The reports further show how the quick thinking of a girl ( popularly nicknamed the 'miracle teen' after this stunt) had saved the life of twenty seven odd people, all ranging in the age groups of eighteen to late forties.

The lady on the television went on to explain how the girl had, after ringing the fire alarm bell, jumped into the fire herself. The fire department called it a 'major fire' which had the potential to do much worse. While 'The Cabin' survived the tragedy remarkably well, it was the 'Miracle Teen' who lost her life.

The cremation of Mia, the miracle teen was attended by many. Why wouldn't it be? She was a hero in a town that had very few.

I wondered how many of them would still be mourning her if they knew that it was the miracle teen who had caused the fire. Would they still be here, dressed in white if they knew that she was a murderer?

It was funny, really how they saw everything in black and white. All my life I had been told that there was something wrong with me, that I was cursed. But I wasn't, and that was the biggest lie of it all.

The colors were what made people who they were. I think everyone knew that somewhere deep down. And since the only colors they saw were black and white, they decided to break the barriers of humanity to break humans into blacks and whites.

Even when we overcame the 'colors' there was always something nagging at the back of our heads, urging us to classify each other. There came the aspect of good and evil. The classification into black and white all over again.

What they needed to understand was that there was no good nor was there any evil. There were no blacks nor were there any whites. We were people with unique feelings, with emotions that were enough to divide us. They were the colors that made us.

The group of twenty seven families huddled around the lit pyre thought I was good. Maybe in another person's head I was evil. The fact was that we weren't good or evil, we just were.

And that was alright for now.

Maybe someday, I would tell Ava what I'd done. Maybe she would forgive me. Maybe she won't.

But that day wasn't today, and that was alright. Because there was one thing I knew for certainty— I wasn't evil, nor was I good; I just was and I was alright.