track 2


We were compartmentalised in four individual boxes, divided by white lines and coloured backgrounds. Apparently, each colour represented our personality. I was stuck with blue.

I don’t even like the colour blue.

They gave me blue collared shirts, blue high-top sneakers, and even a blue iPhone. I didn’t even know they came in that colour, but they managed to find one for me. My name was engraved on the back in gold. In a way, since I was thrown into all of this, I was born again. A newborn dressed in baby blue, with my face powdered everyday and cheeks tinted an intense pink with various lipstick stains from anonymous women. My eyes are still not used to bright lights. When I think of my mother, all I see in my head are the cuticles of her fingernails.

My mother doesn’t even have to worry about the baby pictures she never took now – she never had time to take photos of me due to her illness – because there’s a new photo of me in glossy print practically everyday, available for pick-up in every cornerstone. She keeps all the cut-outs in a little album, preserved in laminated folds.

I even lost a tooth a few months ago. Security misjudged certain things, such as the physics behind a moving fist.

The tooth was quickly replaced, and the old one that was knocked out of my mouth was sold to a winning bidder by the name of Cady Rose on eBay around 4:03 AM on a Tuesday.

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