"It's all in the wavelength," she paraphrased, staring down at the book. "What our brain perceives as color depends completely on the condition of the phenomena that enters the eye." Her hand ran over the familiar spectral grid, pausing to scratch at a speck of mystery gunk that has a tendency to dry on the interior pages of hand-me-down texts. "A simple shift can change the way you see."
"What do you see now?" her studio partner asked hesitantly. She intimidated him in every way imaginable. Her company was never comfortable, and yet he could hardly deny his curiosity the chance to satiate itself on the glut of her enigmatic tendencies.
"This." She nodded, and without looking down grasped two tubes of acrylic paint and squeezed them forcefully onto the table between them. Her gaze locked onto his widening eyes as she grabbed his right hand, pushing it into the cold, viscous puddle, sliding it vigorously over the wood grain.
He breathed in sharp shock at the sensation, and looked down to see that the black and red pigments had emulsified into a biologically alarming hue. It sloshed over his fingers, flooding into the valleys of his hand; the immediate aftermath of an invisible injury from which he tried instinctively to retract, but her grasp held firm.
"What do you see?" She mocked in a girlish tone of apparent self-amusement. She pressed his left hand to the table and slid his stiff fingers between and around each other, tittering subtly at the sucking noises of the slowly drying liquid. Suddenly, she lifted his palms toward her face, examining them for a moment.
"This is what I see," she announced seriously, turning his hands to slap them across his eyes and mouth. "Hold on, I need to get my camera." - See more at: http://typetrigger.com/trigger/garnet#sthash.vrT0Xwsp.dpuf
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