You open the door to big blue eyes, staring at you, and in his fingers he holds a single yellow rose. He quirks his mouth up on one side, and walks through the open door. Turning as you close it, he reaches out and traces the lines of your face with the petals on the rose. Your nose, your jaw, your throat. It comes to rest in the little hollow where your neck meets your chest, and he looks into your eyes again. When he reaches for you, all you can think of is him. The rest of the world fades to grey, and he is a rainbow.