It was a different colour that Penelope saw. Her eyes were as dull as could be. Her mind attempted to distance itself from the wall around her. All she saw was green, even though there was hardly a drop of it on that beach of theirs. The tough grasses that grew on the cliff side were more yellow than they were green, yet it was green Penelope saw all the same.
With the green, she felt fleeting aspects of joy. They were clamped down on soon enough though, trapped under a jar like a spider to be stored elsewhere. Then there was fear. Fear was allowed to stay. Fear allowed the green grasses that she saw to grow higher. It even allowed the occasional colourful flower to bloom – and joy would come with the sight of them once again, only to be gutted with a harsh reprimand, and replaced by an ever-increasing sea of green.
