All my life I’ve been surrounded by, what I call, “the 360 gasp”. I call it that because when people get to see in color for the first time, their mouths drop, they suck in a breath as though it’s the first of their lives, and turn 360 degrees around to get a panoramic view of their surroundings. They do this because in the time that we live in, that I live in, everyone sees in black, white, and a hundred shades of grey. The only way I can see all the colors of the wind is by finding my passion. Passion being true love, a dream job, a favorite hobby, that kind of thing.
     So yes, I don’t know what the color ‘red’ or the shade of ‘lilac’ looks like; even though the Internet, the new and improved internet that has gone beyond what was thought possible, explains everything one needs to know about every color on the spectrum. In this day in age, in 2075, everything is digital. Schools haven’t used pen and paper since 2035, art is negligible, and all literature is on a tablet. I am an active voter in the law to keep the old ways out of our system; the world has stepped up from the near-ancient times, both in good and bad ways, and I don’t think that writing on paper with things that rely on ink will help us move up any further, especially this far into the future.
As I walked out from the building where the voting had just taken place, I watched my surroundings. I witnessed two strangers walking down the street in opposite directions. They bumped into each other and, like clockwork, they experienced the 360 gasp. Their grey eyes widened and their neutral smiles stretched their white faces as they watch color spread across their passion; true love. My hands fiddled with my dark grey tie as the scene unraveled in front of me. The man and woman hug, their eyes continuing to stay open in order to gaze at the newfound rainbow in front of them. My eyes scanned the monotonous colors of the brick buildings, the cars, the other bystanders. I felt a pang of jealousy as I continued to walk, slicking my already greased back hair into place. I continued to stare at everything else, and was distracted by another story unfolding. A young adult, a man maybe a few years younger than me, was talking to an older man, whose hair was as white as his doctor’s coat, inside of a brick building with a large window that was open to the public. The young adult, with his silvery hair styled like my jet black hair, grabbed the elder’s hand tightly in a handshake, his dark grey eyes filling with tears. The elder handed him a framed piece of paper, I was assuming a diploma for something, and the young man dropped his grip on the old man’s hand to hold the frame in his palms. Like the way the sun crosses the sky, I observed the young man slowly go from beyond happy, to pleasantly surprised as his eyes left the sight of the picture frame to gaze in awe at the world around him. His mouth went slack and his gaze flitted from one part of the room to the other. He did a slow 360 turn, the old man watching with pure joy as the younger male found his passion. The doctor spoke to him, his face soft and kind. He himself must have found his passion in his line of work as well, which made me think about how my simple job of computer programming for a major electronic company did indeed make me happy, but unfortunately did not leave me with a world full of color as the two men in the building were living through.
     “Do you think the colors move slowly across their vision or fast?” A feminine voice asked from behind me. I jumped a little, startled by the sudden voice, and turned to scold whoever it was for not announcing their presence. I stopped myself, though, when a beautiful girl, a woman about my age, became the center of my sight. She had white hair, which I could only assume was the color ‘blonde’ in the world where there was color, and silver eyes. Her face was thin and the small smile on her face showed traces of dimples within her plump cheeks. She was short in stature, and she was relatively thin with a few curves that were visible from under her silky blouse and pencil skirt. My frown turned to a slight smile and I cocked my head.
     “What?” I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I had expected. Her smile widened and her perfectly straight teeth were shown. Her eyes went from me to the scene behind me, and I followed her lead.
     “When you get to see color for the first time, does the color seep slowly from your true passion like thick paint running down a canvas, or does it explode like a paintball hitting a wall?” She wondered. I furrowed my brow and I gave her a questioning look. I had never thought about that before. “I see it coming out slowly. I can’t imagine that whoever had created this type of world for us, this type of magic, would overwhelm us with all the colors of the rainbow all at once. I think they would want us to enjoy all the colors coming out slowly, like a wave.”
      “That’s a very beautiful way to think about it.” I told her. She grinned, and her white cheeks started turning a slightly darker shade of grey. She must have been blushing, and I felt the overwhelming need to see the rosy color on her apricot shaded skin. If, in fact, she was pale. Maybe she’s tan. It’s so hard to tell what color a piece of clothing or a beautiful woman would be when we are chained to the life of living like a dog, or like an ancient movie from over a hundred and fifty years ago. “I’m Chandler, and you are…?”
     “I’m Charity.” She greeted as he folded her hands behind her back. I smiled and bowed a little, a silent greeting for the beautiful woman in front of me. I motioned for her to start walking with me, and she nodded and began meandering down the street.
     “So what was this theory you have, about the colors coming out slowly?” I asked, wanting to hear her voice. They were like beautiful bells, something that this black and white magic couldn’t touch.
     “What do you want to know about it?” She returned, her eyes moving from me to her kitten heels. I watched her silently for a moment, mesmerized by her beauty, before finally responding to her question.
     “How long have you thought about it? Like, how our world changes? Because I’ve thought about it quite a lot, but I’ve never gone so far as to think about the rate in time to which the colors cover my vision.” I stated, a cheeky smile dancing at my lips. Charity looked back up at me, her eyes twinkling in a new kind of way.
      “Seeing in color is basically all I think about.” She blurted out, her voice full of vigor. I turned my head a little to usher her to continue, and she burst into a passionate speech about how she envisioned the world in vibrant and bold colors, and how there were more shades to anything that we could ever think about, even more shades than the color grey. She talked about how grey would seem like the color black to us after finally experiencing the beauty of the colors of the rainbow, and I was absolutely enthralled. The way she spoke about colors made me think that the rainbow itself was her passion and all she had to do was touch a stuffed unicorn, which I’ve been told has a mane with all the colors of the spectrum.
      “To me it sounds like you’ve already found your passion,” I announced, my hands sliding into my pockets as I did so. She looked up at me with wide eyes, and I smirked. “Talking.”
“Rude.” She hissed, narrowing her eyes at me. She began to walk faster, but with her short legs, it didn’t take much for me to catch up to her.
      “Charity,” I called, taking a small jump to get right next to her. She pointed her head in the opposite direction and I nudged her slightly with my shoulder. “I’m kidding.”
      She giggled a little and looked back at me. It looked like she was about to respond with some witty comment, but as her pupils dilated, I knew that she wouldn’t continue. Her mouth opened slightly, and I could hear her take in a deep breath. Her eyes flitted all around me, beyond me to all that was behind me.
     “It goes slowly.” She said. My eyebrows shot up, first in confusion and then in utter shock. She was seeing in color; we were each other’s passion. I stared at her and waited for the color to come. My eyes looked at every individual hair on her head, every crease in her shiny blouse, ever line in her pencil skirt, but nothing came. I couldn’t see color.
     “It does?” I asked, immediately regretting the words come out of my mouth. Charity’s wide eyes drained of their happiness and filled themselves with hurt.
     “You mean… you can’t see it?” She whispered. The way she spoke, how quiet her voice was, it all hit me like a ton of bricks. This couldn’t be right, this girl was amazing and beyond anything I could comprehend. I’d only known her for about an hour but I could feel that there was something between us. This was all wrong.
     “I-I didn’t know this could happen.” I said, choking up a little. Unintentionally I had broken Charity’s heart, because whether I want to believe it or not, she wasn’t my passion. I could see in Charity’s eyes that she knew that, but I couldn’t let her walk away. “Charity, wait.” My hand grabbed her shoulder and she looked at me, her big eyes filled with tears. “I’m not taking this as a sign that we shouldn’t be together. I’m your passion, and even though you’re not mine I feel something too.”
     “You do?” She sniffled, flicking a tear from under her eyes. I nodded and pulled her closer.
     “I promise.” At that, a small smile danced at her lips. I smiled too, but I couldn’t get the fact that I still hadn’t found my passion out of my mind. I quickly pulled out my phone and handed it to her, the screen showing a new contact with the name ‘Passionate Charity’ on top. She giggled a little and clicked her number into my phone before saving the contact. “I swear that I’m not ditching you, but I need to find my passion first before we continue. If I don’t, it’ll drive me crazy.”
     “I understand, Chandler.” She said, smiling kindly at me. I hugged her tightly, my hand resting on the back of her head, before forcing myself to walk away. “Oh, and Chandler?” I turned around, my gaze meeting Charity’s. “Your eyes are a honey brown with gold stripes in them.” I smiled widely, one of my biggest questions answered.
     When I got home, I tore up my whole apartment. I started in my bedroom, touching every article of clothing, every piece of paper, every electronic I’ve ever owned, everything. When I didn’t find my passion there, I went to the bathroom, then the living room, then my work room. I went through my whole house, acting similar to a tornado and leaving a mess at every corner. I had done this for a straight hour before plopping myself onto my black leather couch, giving up all hope. I texted Charity, telling her that nothing in my house was my passion, and awaited her response. My eyes gloomily scanned my living room, which was left in utter destruction. Charity had texted me back, saying that we should go downtown to all the antique shops and touch things there, in case I liked something like vase collecting. I smiled at her humor and texted back, telling her that I would meet her there. I grabbed my dark grey, discarded jacket and began heading for the door before something untouched caught my eye.
     A dull, flimsy-looking box was sitting on the kitchen counter. I questioned myself for not noticing it while I was digging through the kitchen, but the size and overall appeal of the box was enough to explain why I had missed its presence. On the top of the box was a sticker, saying that it was from my great-grandmother. I took my keys and ripped open the tape, somewhat eager to see what was inside. I was stunned to see a small letter surrounded by a few ridiculously old things. The letter had said that she was rummaging through her basement and saw some things she’d think I’d like for keepsakes. I set the letter to the side and picked up the first thing to catch my eye, an old slide phone. It must have been ancient, since my grandmother had told me that slide phones were basically extinct when she was a teenager. There were a few other items like pictures of my grandparents, pictures of my parents, small knick-knacks, things like that.
     I had begun to close the box when the light from my kitchen shined against something metallic. I stuck my hand in the box and pulled out something I had only seen in pictures. It was a pen, an actual pen. It was an inkwell, I think it was called, and I was pretty sure you had to dip them in ink to get them to write. I had to admit that it looked cool, but it was yet another insignificant item to me. Until the tip started changing color.
It was so small that I had to do a double take, but I saw it. The very tip of the pen had begun changing color. Charity was right; it did drip slowly, like thick paint. The top of the pen turned into a shiny metal that was not a grey color, so I could only assume that it was the color gold. Next, the body had begun changing into a dark, vibrant color that I wanted to call red. My mouth dropped as I watched the pure magic washing over me. The grey around my feet had started moving away from me, like I was repelling it, and I watched in utter shock as my apartment, and then the city outside, had changed to color. I did a 360 gasp, overwhelmed but absolutely pleased with the new world of color. I ran to the mirror in the bathroom, staring at my eyes in the light. They were a light brown, as Charity had said, and held a color that couldn’t be anything but gold within it. My skin was a pale color, my suit a dark grey, my tie a silky and royal blue.
I slowly walked from my bathroom, taking in all the colors of the furniture I had bought without knowing the colors. I had done well, and I reached for my phone to tell Charity before my eyes once again landed on the pen. I pursed my lips, reality coming back to me.
     “You have got to be kidding me.”