Britt-Marie's entire life has been based on the principle of simplicty. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Bread in the breadbox in the cupboard in the kitchen. Bras in the underwear drawer in the dresser in the bedroom. Paperclips in the magnetic cup in the drawer in the office. Everything belonged somewhere, and it was either in the right spot or the wrong spot.

Effie's life has been entirely based on creativity, complexity, all the color. Everything Effie did she did impulsively, assuming a fifty fifty chance and beauty and horror. There was never any wrong in Effie's world. Someone messing up was thing of beauty, more of an opportunity than a shame.

They collided on a fine Sunday afternoon. The park, notorious for it being a popping spot for drug exchanges, was not a place Britt-Marie prefered to be. She found the use of drugs a very distasteful thing and the thought of running all over plastic and metal like some kind of monkey absolutely disgusted her. She was only there because there was no one else to take her small brother, Jeremiah, there. Britt-Marie did not particularly enjoy caring for her brother. He was annoying and never shut up. But her mother appeared quite stressed, based on the purple bags roped under her eyes and the chapped flakes of skin peeling from her lips, Britt-Marie knew it would be rude to refuse the request.

And so, here she was.

Effie, on the contrary, particularly liked the park. The benches were a great place to sit and paint, not to mention the people watching there was spectacular. People from all over Ada gathered at the park. People with fancy plaid jackets and fancy little dogs with matching plaid jackets. People with lean muscles and tight shorts and blue water bottles. Small children walking big dogs completely distracted by the screens cupped in their hands. Effie tried to think of a story for all of them, if they wanted to be there or not, if they had siblings, if they had kids, what they liked, and how old they were. Effie spent hours at the park, painting and watching. And that was exactly what she was doing when Britt-Marie and Effie collided.

The bench Effie sat upon was not particularly interesting. It was half red because the paint was chipping away to reveal the naked splinter-prone wood underneath. The front of the bench dipped slightly over the sidewalk. Effie was swinging her legs, which were coated in galaxy print leggings and holographic military boots.

Now, Britt-marie, as a reasonable person, would not usually approach someone like Effie. Someone with hair every color of the rainbow and purple paint splotched like freckles across their dimples. But, Britt-Marie believed in the principle of exploration, to some extent, and in an impulsive moment (which never occurred, not for Britt-Marie), she approached the strange girl on the bench.

Britt- Marie turned, facing Effie. Effie simply looked up from her painting and grinned.

"Good morning! And in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight!" Effie giggled. She then paused and looked at Britt-Marie who looked utterly puzzled. "You know?" Effie tried. She stared at Britt-Marie for a couple more moments. "The Truman Show?" She muttered. Britt-Marie crossed her arms.

"I simply need to sit," she said, monotone, and sit she did. Effie shrugged and touched her brush back to her canvas. She was painting the oak tree across the sidewalk, but instead of brown and green, her oak tree had a rainbow trunk and pink leaves with glittering dew drops. Britt-Marie leaned over Effie's canvas. Effie lifted her brush politely so Britt-Marie could see. "Are you going for a realistic look?" Britt-Marie asked sarcastically. Effie looked up at her.

"Realistic is sorta boring," she shrugged. "Ya know?" Effie splotched another especially large dewdrop on the canvas.

"I suppose I don't know," Britt-Marie said, shoving her hands in the small pockets of her felt raincoat. "Does it ever occur to you it would make more sense to paint realistically?"

Effie giggled and poked Britt-Marie's cheek (which Britt-Marie did not appreciate). "I don't know have you ever thought it more reasonable to wear a rain jacket when it's actually raining?" Britt-Marie blushed and tugged on the cloth coating her shoulders.

"Well... I..." she started. Effie laughed and slapped her knee.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," she giggled, Britt-Marie's cheeks turning six shades darker. "I like your jacket!" Effie poked Britt-Marie's shoulder and for one time in a long time Britt-Marie laughed, a snotty snorty laugh, but a laugh.

All her life Britt-Marie had been black and white in a color splotched world. And now, in a speratic instance, a little bit of color had bled into her soul. It was like a breath of fresh air after she had been drowning her entire life.

...

And now, Britt-Marie stands before a priest, five years later, hand in hand with her palette of color.

...