Your favorite colour . . . it's green?"
"That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange."
"Orange?" He seems unconvinced.
"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once."
"Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."
But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

Autor: Suzanne Collins

Your favorite colour . . . it's green?"<br />"That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange."<br />"Orange?" He seems unconvinced.<br />"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once."<br />"Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."<br />But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces. - Suzanne Collins




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